


Perpetual Sunrise

by sapphicmoon



Series: Perpetual Sunrise [1]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 1950s, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon, post oakroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16579895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicmoon/pseuds/sapphicmoon
Summary: A look into Carol and Therese's lives together post-Oak Room.This mostly takes place in the movie-verse, but I like to think I've taken some influences from the book, too.Excerpt: 'Carol Aird wasn’t the stoic, put together person she had once appeared to be. Yes, she was a force of nature to be reckoned with, and that would never change. But she had willingly shown her vulnerable side – opened the flood gates – and now Therese could see the extent of the ocean inside of her. She wanted to throw herself in, to anchor herself at the bottom and remain there forever, surrounded by her presence.'





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> It's been forever and a day since I've written any fanfiction (seven years ago, to be exact!) I'm a writer for a living, but it's not a fun sort of writing, so I'm dabbling back into this arena to train myself to get creative again. I'm also a b*tch for Carol and Therese lmao. I'll try to update this as often as I can, but life and work etc. etc.

She waved her hand, beckoning Therese to take a seat at the table. It was a simple gesture, almost casual in its nature, but the woman’s eyes seemed to spark and swirl with something deeper: an unspoken recognition.

Carol Aird wasn’t the stoic, put together person she had once appeared to be. Yes, she was a force of nature to be reckoned with, and that would never change. But she had willingly shown her vulnerable side – opened the flood gates – and now Therese could see the extent of the ocean inside of her. She wanted to throw herself in, to anchor herself at the bottom and remain there forever, surrounded by her presence.

Ripples pulsed between them, thickening the air, and time seemed to stutter.

For a moment, Therese felt as if she were stood behind the counter at Frankenburg’s, catching her first glimpse of the blonde woman all over again. Her heart swelled at the memory of Carol’s mink coat, the perfume that had smelt like dark green velvet, the knowing smile on her lips, the huskiness of her voice. It was overwhelming and intoxicating. Suffocating.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, taking another small, unsure step forward, pulled in by the tide.

Carol broke the silence and made her formal introductions. ‘This is Therese Belivet, a dear friend of mine. Therese, this is Leslie, Harold, and Martha. They’re associates of the furniture store.’ The woman paused for a moment in thought. ‘I’m so glad you could join us,’ she continued, her red lips forming a slow, hesitant smile. A question remained locked behind her blue-grey eyes.

Therese sat herself next to Leslie, a well-dressed man in glasses and neatly slicked-back, black hair. He offered to take her coat before greeting her with a kind smile and a firm handshake. Shifting in her seat, she avoided Carol’s gaze, and focused her attention to the social obligation before her. Lightly wetting her lips, she engaged in small talk with her new acquaintances, trying to sound as enthusiastic and intelligent about furniture as she could. Before long, she was lost in a conversation about the latest television units and display stands. It meant nothing to her, really, but she was glad for the distraction.

Try as she might, however, her mind kept floating back to the elephant in the room. ‘ _I love you_ ,’ Carol had whispered to her across the table in The Ritz. The three words circled around her. She wondered if she had dreamt them.

She risked a quick glance at Carol, but her face gave away nothing. The unfinished conversation lingered in the air between them, like tendrils of smoke from a flickering cigarette.

**************

‘Goodnight, Carol. Make sure you ring me sometime soon, okay? We’ll arrange that dinner.’ Martha hugged and kissed Carol goodbye before sliding into the bench seat of a cab. ‘Lovely to meet you, Therese,’ she added, giving her a hurried wave out of the window.

The car pulled away and Therese waited for the rumble of the engine to fade into the night. New York had never sounded so quiet, and yet the silence was deafening. She shifted her feet on the pavement and stared at the night sky, straining to find a star she could focus her attention on. The woman beside her burnt too brightly and meant too much – one look, for even a moment too long, and she knew she’d crumble.

‘So,’ Carol began, lighting a cigarette between her lips, ‘you decided to meet us?’

‘Yes.’ She looked her in the eyes; it was not so much an act of bravery, but a challenge.

‘…What do you suggest we do next?’

There it was again. The uncertainty. The fear of rejection. Carol was as fragile as she had ever been. There was a crackle of emotion running through her voice that made Therese suddenly aware that the only wall between them now was the one she guarded herself.

Her ears pounded like a drum with the weight of what was to come.

‘It’s still early. Let’s talk – at yours?’

Carol visibly relaxed, her shoulders falling ever so slightly, and nodded her head in agreement (or was it disbelief?).

‘Of course. I’ll hail a cab.’

A few minutes later, the two women climbed into a taxi together and drove off towards Madison Avenue, never touching and speaking of nothing at all.

**************

Stepping out of the elevator, Carol led the younger woman to her flat door.

‘Here we are,’ she said, smiling, as she turned the key and ushered Therese inside and through the hallway.

The apartment was spacious but sparsely decorated, save from a few ornaments and photo frames Therese recognised from her previous house. The flat was clearly one that had yet to become a home, but the select items Carol had chosen were definitely Carol through-and-through.

She wondered how long Carol had been putting off decorating the place fully. How long had she even been living here?

Walls plastered with bland, cream wallpaper and nothing else were distracted only by a few pieces of aesthetically pleasing furniture. A large glass and copper table sat atop an intricate tapestry rug in the living room, surrounded by two low-set velvet sofas in a flattering shade of teal. Behind them, she could make out a wide, inviting balcony hidden under a pair of yellow striped curtains. Her eyes lit up at the thought of how beautiful the New York City skyline must look from this height.

Taking a quick look to the right, Therese caught sight of a large, modern kitchen. She tried to fight smiling at the image of Carol attempting to cook for herself. The woman was always too impatient when it came to following recipes, usually burning something or another.

‘It looks lovely, Carol.’ Therese cursed herself for sounding so bland.

‘Ha. You’re too kind. It will be all right once I know what to do with all this damned space and those ghastly walls,’ she gestured her hands around her. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’

‘A coffee would be great, thank you.’

As the blonde made her way to the kitchen, Therese sat herself down on one of the sofas. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shaky breath to help calm the nerves buzzing around in her stomach. It had been over three months since Carol had left her in Chicago, alone, heartbroken, and with only a single note and Abby to cling onto. She’d spent weeks picking up the pieces and trying to learn how to feel okay again… And now here she was, in the present, in Carol’s new apartment, as if nothing had really changed at all.

But it had. This was the apartment of the woman who had broken her and changed her for good. Of course, she was older now and wiser, too. But the pain and the longing and the sleepless nights still haunted her – they had sunk themselves into her bones. She carried the heartbreak with her.

Opening her eyes, she was suddenly and inexplicably drawn to a wooden unit propped against the far wall. Placed on top was a small record player – a centre piece – with a single LP sitting next to it. ‘ _Easy Living_ ’. She felt her heart constrict.

‘I played it almost every day we were apart, you know. Just to feel closer to you.’

Carol had been leaning against the kitchen doorway, coffee mug in hand, watching her. Therese jumped in shock before sinking back into the sofa, stunned. The debilitating thumping in her check was so loud she wondered if the woman could hear it.

‘Your coffee.’ Carol cooed softly, placing the mug in Therese’s shaking hands, their fingertips brushing slightly. ‘Milk and two sugars, just how I remember you liking it.’

She took a long sip of the warming drink, if only to cover her nervousness and avoid looking into the older woman’s eyes. But it was no use. Carol had tentatively placed herself next to her, a puzzled expression fixed upon her face.

‘Talk to me, please. Even if it’s only to tell me to be done with you,’ she quietly pleaded.

It was only then that Therese noticed the glass in her hand, generously full of rye.

‘Rye depresses you,’ she blurted out of habit, her eyebrows creasing with concern.

Letting out a short, sharp laugh, Carol placed the tumbler on the glass table. ‘You’re right, darling, as you always are.’

A dense quietness settled between them as the two women looked at one another intently, each knowing the other felt the same flutter of nostalgia. And, then, Therese felt the confidence to finally say something meaningful.

‘Did you mean it?’ She asked. ‘When you said you loved me?’

Carol was taken aback by her forwardness and took a sip of her rye despite herself and their previous conversation. ‘Yes, I meant it.’ But she didn’t meet her eyes.

‘Then why did you hurt me?’ The question hit like a sharp blow to the chest.

‘Therese… I did what I thought was right at the time. Right by Rindy and right by you.’

‘Right by me? You used me and then destroyed me. You didn’t consider me at all.’ Therese spat, her voice cracking.

The blonde looked downwards at her lap, her eyes brimming with shame. Her vulnerability had risen to the surface once more.

‘I know now that it was the wrong thing to do. I should have told you to wait – I cursed myself every day afterwards for not telling you to wait. But I suppose a part of me thought I was doing you a favour. I’m older… and carrying more baggage than one should. I didn’t want to tie you down or burden you.’ Carol paused to take another drink before continuing. ‘Besides, Harge, my psychiatrist and the court had me on house arrest. I wasn’t to see you or call you… or even think of you. I thought, perhaps, you’d get over me and find someone younger, prettier, your own age. Someone who would treat you better.’

Images of Genevieve flashed to the forefront of Therese’s mind. Although she had been beautiful, it was a struggle to remember the features of her face, or even the sound of her voice. She was simply a blur and nothing more, fading into the background like a song on the radio – exciting at the time, but only that. Only ever memorable in the moment.

Because Genevieve wasn’t Carol. Carol, the woman whose face she still knew like the back of her hand. Carol, the woman she saw whenever she closed her eyes. Carol. The woman she loved and would always love.

Therese hesitantly placed a hand on Carol’s cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear.

‘Don’t you know I love you?’

Before Carol had the chance to register her comment or respond, Therese leaned in to kiss her lips gently, sealing her promise. ‘I love you,’ she repeated.

'You do?' The woman looked uncertain. 

'Yes. From the very start.'

Carol smiled, a blush colouring her cheeks, confidence building like a crescendo within her. She placed both of her hands on the younger woman’s face, kissed her once more, and then searched her eyes for the green light she needed. ‘Would you stay, then? Tonight?’

Therese opened her mouth to answer but shut it abruptly. Her mind was swimming with an array of thoughts and feelings. She wasn’t sure what path to follow. ‘Yes, I think… I mean, we’ve got a lot to rebuild. I need to know you won’t hurt me again. I couldn’t take it.’ 

‘Darling, I don’t ever want to hurt you again. Please believe me.’

When Therese didn’t respond, Carol shifted her weight forward, pulled instinctively towards her lover. She boldly kissed Therese on her cheek, then her jawbone, then her neck, eliciting a soft moan.

‘Carol…’ she breathed, relaxing under the ministrations of the woman’s lips. The sound of her name only fuelled her fire, and Carol was soon dragging her teeth lightly across the brunette’s collarbone.

‘I can’t help myself,’ she murmured, trailing kisses back up to Therese’s mouth and parting her lips with an eager tongue. One hand crept dangerously high upon one of the younger woman’s thighs, with another untucking her top from her brown checkered skirt. Carol placed her fingers against the warm flesh of Therese’s hip, tracing light patterns across the pale skin.

Giving in, Therese fidgeted with the buttons on her partner’s blazer whilst moaning a disjointed, desperate ‘Okay. I’ll stay. Tonight. Please… Take me to bed’.

Later, the two women curled up in Carol’s bed, naked against one another with their limbs entwined. It was the first full night’s sleep either had gotten in months.


	2. Chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter, filler chapter. Firing it out rather quickly before the working week, so forgive me if there are any glaringly obvious errors!

Therese opened her eyes and shifted onto her back, blinking rapidly to try and wake herself up fully. For a brief moment she panicked, unsure of her surroundings. But the familiar rhythm of peaceful, heavy breathing to her left brought the events of the previous night to the forefront of her mind.

She blushed at the heated memories of their lovemaking, becoming aware of the pleasant ache that had spread throughout her muscles. Looking downwards, she spotted a small purple bruise on the top of her right breast: a mark from Carol. She hoped it’d never leave.

Lifting an arm over and behind her head, she propped herself up on an elbow and surveyed the woman next to her. Even in sleep, with her blonde hair mussed and her lips smudged with remnants of lipstick, Carol was the most beautiful sight to behold. She smiled fondly as her lover subconsciously moved closer, wrapping an arm across her stomach. The bed sheets dropped below Carol’s shoulders in the process, exposing her naked torso. Therese couldn’t help but stare.

With her free hand, she clasped Carol’s and rubbed her thumb gently over her knuckles. She had always loved how her hands were both simultaneously strong and soft, much like the woman herself.

Therese wondered if everyone felt this happy and warm when they were in love. The feeling consumed her; sometimes it felt too big to hold. She could understand why people wrote about it so often, now, as silly as it sounded.

A glance to her right, however, and her happiness faltered.

A photo of Carol and Rindy sat atop the white, wooden bedside table. It was lovingly showcased in a beautiful golden frame, decorated with engraved flowers and vines. Carol was sat on a picnic blanket with Rindy in her lap – they were glancing at one another, sunshine highlighting their features, wearing the biggest smiles. A wicker basket full of picnic foods lay beside their feet and a man’s watch was haphazardly thrown beside it. She wondered if Harge had taken the picture.

A pang of guilt enveloped Therese’s insides like a string rope looping and tugging around her lungs, holding her hostage.

_People might write of love_ , she thought, _but they don’t write of love like ours_.

She let go of her grasp on Carol’s hand.

Of course, she knew it was the world who was at fault for punishing them without just reason, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility. She was, in part, responsible for Carol losing her daughter. And now all the woman had were a few photographs and the hope – a prayer – that Harge would one day grant her regular visits with Rindy.

Therese suddenly felt greedy that she could receive this woman’s love, but her own daughter could not. She would do all she could to get her back without compromising their relationship, she decided, for Carol.

A soft grunting noise sounded from behind her, signalling that her lover was waking.

‘So it wasn’t just a happy dream?’ She asked sleepily, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.

‘I could pinch you just to make sure, if you’d like?’ Therese rolled over, sneaking a stray hand under the duvet, and pinched a protesting Carol lightly on her waist. ‘Hmm, you seem to be pretty awake to me.’

‘Ouch! Can’t a woman enjoy a Saturday morning in peace?’ She retorted, feigning annoyance.

‘Good morning to you, too.’

Therese gave Carol a brief kiss to the forehead before grabbing a bed robe she’d been offered the night before. Draping it around her shoulders, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and made a move for the bedroom door.

‘You’re leaving already?’ The blonde asked, jokingly, although Therese could see the genuine worry in her eyes.

‘No. Making coffee. I’ll be back in a second.’

 *************

Whilst lighting the stove and filling the kettle with fresh water, Therese took a moment to process the last twelves hours. It had felt like a lifetime and yet no time at all. Excitement and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, giving her a rush like no other.

However, she still couldn’t shake a feeling of anxiety. After all, there were still a multitude of questions and logistics that she couldn’t quite figure out yet. Was she ready to move in to this apartment? Should they be taking things slower? What about Rindy? And what if Harge found out they were still seeing each other?

Would Carol one day resent her? Or, god forbid, fall out of love with her?

Before she could work herself into a deeper frenzy, she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist.

‘Terribly slow service in this place.’ Carol mumbled, brushing her lips against the back of her neck and sending shivers down her spine.

She had failed to realise the kettle had finished boiling minutes ago. Therese cursed. ‘Damnit, sorry, go back to bed and I’ll be right in.’

‘Don’t worry, darling, you’re worth getting up for. Penny for your thoughts?’

Carol must have sensed her space out. She turned around in her lover’s arms and placed both hands on her shoulders.

‘It’s nothing, really. I… I feel wonderful, and so happy, but there’s such a way to go. There’s so much distance and time to process. Do you know what I mean?’

The older woman simply nodded, her eyes communicating her understanding, and waited for Therese to elaborate.

‘I think it’s best I go back to my apartment tonight. I don’t have any clothes here anywa-’

‘You can borrow some of mine, it’s no trouble,’ Carol interrupted.

Therese couldn’t fight the small smile that graced her lips. She wanted her to stay. She _wanted_ her. It was still difficult to believe.

‘Thank you. But I can’t shake the worry that something bad will happen again. I don’t know. I think we need to take this slowly. I need time to think properly. I can’t get caught up like last time. Not to mention, my flat has been paid for for the next three months…’ She trailed off, conscious of her rambling, looking anywhere but Carol’s blue-grey eyes that now felt more like whirlpools, sucking her in.

‘You shouldn’t let your anxieties about what _might_ happen stop yourself from being happy.’

Therese swallowed hard. ‘I’m still healing. I need to be certain. You have to understand.’

‘Fine. Whatever you think is best.’

She winced.

‘Carol. Don’t-’

Strong arms fell from around her as Carol walked away towards the master bedroom. Moments later, Therese heard the unmistakable sound of a shower running. She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee.

 *************

Therese stood on the balcony, coffee mug still in hand, wind breezing through her hair. She had spent the last fifteen minutes watching the tiny people below her go about their days, completely unaware of her surveying eyes. If she had had her camera to hand, she would have happily photographed them all. It would be a nice distraction from the heaviness of her confession to Carol.

‘Ah, you’re still here,’ Carol said teasingly, but there was love laced around her words. ‘I’m sorry about earlier, darling. I pushed you too hard, it was unfair of me.’

Therese stayed silent, continuing to look downwards and out at the city.

Carol walked towards her, leaning her elbows on the balcony railing and followed her eye line. Her face was fresh and her hair still damp. A familiar silence, typical of their relationship, sat comfortably between them.

‘I know we weren’t in one another’s lives at the time, but I chose this place with you in mind. And Rindy.’ The blonde paused, glazing over at her own mention of her daughter’s name. ‘Is that an odd thing to do? I knew you’d love the balcony, but I also knew this railing was safe for Rindy. She’s a good climber, that one, but there’s not a chance in hell she could clamber up this.’ She patted the metal and laughed.

‘There’s a room that I think will make a wonderful darkroom for your photography. And a room that’ll be perfect for Rindy when… If… She comes to stay. I’ll paint it blue – her favourite colour.’

Therese looked at her incredulously, stunned at the thought of Carol choosing to consider her opinions even during their time apart.

‘I love you and I want you to know that I want this. I did you wrong - I hurt you - and I’m trying to be better. I want you to move in, desperately.’ She placed a hand on Therese’s, seeking eye contact. ‘But, of course, you’re not obligated to stay here or with me. If you need your space, I understand.’

‘I want this, too. I do. I want to live with you – eventually - but give me time.’

‘We’ll work it out.’

The two women leaned towards each other, wishing to close the gap between them. A car horn, however, made them realise that they were on display to the world. Even as tiny dots against a large apartment complex, neither woman could risk the potential implications of showcasing their love.

‘I’ll stay again tonight. I’ll go back to my place tomorrow.’ Therese said with finality, although she couldn’t help feeling that she’d somehow given in. Admittedly, she didn’t have any Saturday night plans anyway, and the thought of spending the night alone in her damp, musty apartment was hardly appealing.

Carol held Therese’s hand and led her inside before kissing her so passionately she felt the wind get knocked out of her. ‘If you’re sure, darling,’ she murmured.

‘Yes,’ Therese responded breathily, diving in for another taste of Carol’s lips.

When they broke apart, Carol furrowed her brow and shot her a mock frown.

‘You know, I really ought to find the manager of this place. I was promised a coffee three quarters of an hour ago and I still don’t seem to have it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Therese rolled her eyes. She stifled a laugh and made her way to the kitchen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, commenting, giving kudos etc. It's super nice of you all.
> 
> :)


	3. Chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the truth is I had three chapters of this story written up already, which is why I've been posting them so quickly. I've mostly just been editing these past couple of days.
> 
> After this one goes up I have more writing to do, so it may take longer. Entirely depends on how keen I am after work. (A b*tch has gotta work to fund her lavish lifestyle of sleeping in too long on weekends and eating copious amounts of pizza.)
> 
> You've been warned!

The sound of a loud, shrilling alarm clock reverberated around her apartment walls. The noise pierced her eardrums like a balloon, making her jolt awake, her eyes widening in shock. She peered at the clock face: 6:30AM. On a Monday morning.

When the realisation that it was a working day hit, Therese stretched her arms above her head and rubbed the sleepiness out of her eyes. Groaning, she clambered out of her single bed and walked to her bathroom. A few quick splashed of water to her face made her feel more alert.

Surveying herself in the mirror, she noticed how her face seemed to have regained the colour it had lost during the last few months. It was strange what heartbreak and sadness could do to one’s physical appearance. Touching her face lightly with her fingertips, she observed how her cheeks were rosy – youthful, even. Her eyes were looking more human, too, sparkling with a mixture of hope and excitement.

She was in love. Her and Carol had found their way back to one another again.

Yes, they were taking their relationship cautiously, paving out a path patiently, but they had all the time in the world. It felt like the beginning of their journey all over again. Only, this time, they had the possibility of a real future together if they did it right. That thought alone filled Therese with nervous butterflies.

She thought fondly of their Saturday afternoon together.

After their rather straining conversation about living arrangements, Carol had insisted she take the brunette out for lunch, as a way of an apology. Sitting at the same quiet, up-market diner where they had first eaten together, they took the time to fill one another in on the last few months of their lives. Therese discussed her “breakup” of sorts with Richard, whilst Carol offered short, vague snippets of her time at her psychiatrist’s office, mixed with lighthearted recounts of escapades with Abby.

Sensing the mood dropping, the older woman decided to take Therese shopping instead. She picked her out a pair of handsome, plaid grey slacks and a few striking, intricately detailed blouses that she could wear to work.

‘You’ll look divine in these,’ she had whispered through the curtain of a shop dressing room, making Therese blush. ‘I like it when you wear slacks.’

Conscious of becoming lost in her daydream, Therese gave her head a shake to bring her back to the present.

She speedily applied a dab of makeup and a brush of mascara before throwing on her new slacks and one of her red blouses. The colour reminded her of Carol.

Stepping into her shoes, she grabbed her keys and left the apartment in a flurry. A hurricane in the form of a woman.

 *******************

Working at the New York Times always felt more like spending the day at a dog kennel. Not a day went by without reporters rushing about, barking orders and chasing lead after lead. Some might find it overwhelming and, truthfully, sometimes it was. But Therese found it exhilarating. So long as the world kept turning, the office never had a dull day. And that sense of refreshed, predictable newness had given the woman a newfound purpose.

That said, even after months of working in her clerk job, she still felt like she only ever sat on the outside of the action. Taking minutes, fetching coffee and listening to men interrupt her day-in-day-out was growing tiresome. She was reliable and eager: a good worker. But the only person in the building who seemed to acknowledge her potential was Dannie. Sweet, kind, understanding Dannie, who had always pushed her to be bold and chase her dreams. He was her crutch.

Fortunately for her, Dannie was working days this week. He stood next to her now in the photo editing meeting room – a calm, reassuring presence.

‘Hey, say, Therese,’ he whispered through his teeth, ‘Wanna grab a drink after work tonight? You ran off without saying a word at Phil’s party. Broke my heart.’ He clutched his heart, feigning pain.

‘So long as you don’t bore me with another one of your film reviews, you’re on,’ she bit back playfully, gently jabbing him in the side with an elbow.

Before he had a chance to say something, however, the table in the centre of the room grew dangerously animated. Martin Foxe, the Chief of the photography department, stood up abruptly, almost throwing his desk chair in the process.

He was an old, gruff man with a full head of greying hair and wide-set shoulders. Thick, brown glasses sat at the tip of his nose.

‘This,’ he gestured his hands aggressively at a scatter of photographs, ‘isn’t good enough.’

The meeting had been to discuss picking out a couple of photos for a news article that was due to be finalised that day. The article in question was meant to bring light to rising levels of poverty and homelessness in the city, shining a light on ex war veterans in particular.

A silence descended upon the room.

‘You call this photography? I wouldn’t even use this to kindle a fire.’

A brave man raised his hand timidly to offer his opinion. ‘Sir, I followed your instructions. I’m just not used to these types of personal stories, I-’

‘Hmph. A good article isn’t just words. Photographs are what draw our audience in, make em feel empathetic. Without anything to relate to, no one’s going to read this. No one’s going to care. Jesus Christ, we’re running one of the country’s biggest newspapers, for crying out loud.’

Martin fumbled with lighting a cigarette before taking a long drag. He blew out the smoke and sat back down.

‘These will have to do. We’re running out of time. But we need a fresh perspective in this place. Can someone please give me a photographer who has the _right fucking eye_ for this stuff.’ He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his temples.

Therese shuffled nervously, scribbling nothing of importance on her notepad to distract her from the awkward atmosphere. She was used to arguments in the office every now and then, but this had been particularly explosive. Conflict had never been her favourite thing to witness or deal with.

‘Hey, uh, sir.’ Dannie spoke suddenly, timidly.

‘Hm.’ Martin responded, not looking away from the material in his hands.

‘Therese here is a great photographer. You should see her stuff – it’s amazing, really engaging.’

Her eyes grew wide. Her face turned beet red. She wanted the earth to swallow her hole, and swallow Dannie, too, for that matter.

Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on her. She felt completely exposed and it filled her with anxiety. A photographer never liked to become the subject, after all.

‘Is that right?’ Martin asked, his words drawn out slowly. ‘A woman photographer. Huh. Who’d have thought.’

Therese could sense Dannie fighting the urge to argue. She stepped in hurriedly. ‘Yes – I take all sorts of photos. It’s a passion of mine... I’d be happy to show you my work.’

‘See me at the end of the day’ was all he said.

Once again, the room came alive with chatter about tomorrow’s spread, as if nothing had ever happened.

*******************

Therese was led into Martin Foxe’s office by spirited young personal assistant.

‘Miss Belivet is here to see you, sir.’ She said before leaving and shutting the door quietly.

‘Ah, Miss Belivet. You haven’t been here long, have you?’ He asked, his hands clasped together on his desk. The tone of his voice didn’t sound particularly engaged and she doubt he even wanted a response.

‘No. Only a few months. I’ve been mostly taking minutes and doing the odd errands.’

‘And you say you’re a photographer?’

‘Yes. In my spare time… I sent a portfolio in when I first applied for the job.’ She tried to keep eye contact as best as she could, despite feeling like the man in front of her might bear his teeth at any time.

‘I see.’ Martin stroked his chin in thought. 'Have you got an eye for photographing people?' He asked.

'I'd like to think so. I've been practising.' Her mind wandered to the photos she'd taken of Carol on their road trip. 

‘Well, I tell you what. You give me a new portfolio by the end of the week and I’ll consider taking a chance on you. I'm feeling charitable.’

Excitement built inside of her, and it felt like looking at a sunrise over an ocean. She was too speechless to think of a good enough response.

‘If that’s all, Miss Belivet, I must get on.’ He pointed to his office door. ‘Go, before I change my mind.’

She said a hurried ‘thank you’ before leaving the room hastily. Dannie was waiting for her in the foyer, his coat draped across one of his arms, with a worried expression on his face.

‘I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?’

‘No, the opposite,’ she smiled, ‘I’ll tell you over drinks.’

 *******************

They were sat in a small, wooden booth at a local bar. Behind the musty atmosphere, the walls were mosaic-ed with beer mats from all over the United States and further afield. The place was almost empty, unsurprisingly so for a Monday evening, and the only real noise came from the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. Therese could recognise Ella Fitzgerald's voice. 

As soon as they had sat down, beers in hand, she had eagerly told Dannie about her meeting with Martin, the words flooding from her freely. She couldn’t help but feel like her life was becoming better and better by the day. It felt like a dream. 

‘Therese, that’s incredible!’ Dannie exclaimed. ‘You ought’a get working on that portfolio as soon as. Don’t let me down – or you, for that matter!’

She took a swig of her beer. ‘I’m still mad as hell at you for putting me in that situation, though. But, it paid off, so I guess you’re lucky this time.’

'I promise to keep my mouth shut next time if  _you_ promise to believe in your talent more.' He emphasised his words by pointing his index finger at her.

'Fine. I promise.'

They both smiled at each other warmly and clinked bottles in a cheers to Therese’s new (potential) career progression.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem much happier today. Brighter. I can see it in your face.’

‘I am.’ She thought of waking up to Carol’s sleepy smile on Sunday morning and tried to ignore the quiet pang of longing in her chest. It had been well over a day since she had seen the woman.

‘You’re smiling, lost in a daydream,’ he stated, ‘what’s happened?’

She could see a knowing look in his eyes, although it was mingled with quiet apprehension. As much as she knew it was risky to talk of her relationship with Carol in public, she was sure she could trust Dannie. He didn’t judge her. Unlike any other friend she’d ever had, he put her happiness above and beyond everything else.

‘I saw Carol. We’re going to try and patch things up.’ Her words only scratched the surface. How could she communicate her feelings for this woman out loud? How could she make anyone else other than her understand the depth inside of her?

‘I’m happy for you, Terry… But are y’sure she’s not going to hurt you again? I saw how hurt you were last time and, I’ll be frank, I don’t wanna have to fight a woman.’

She let out a short laugh. ‘She could definitely take you on, you know.’

But his words had triggered something at the back of her subconscious. Her eyes glazed over, focusing vaguely on a pool table at the back of the bar.

_Would_ Carol hurt her again? She couldn’t be sure. After all, the future was a foreign, unpredictable land, always an arm’s length out of reach, submerged under water. Anxieties and hurt still swam around her like piranhas, teasing her and whispering hurtful, untrue things in her ears.  

‘I’m being serious, Therese. I want you to be with her, but only if she won’t take advantage of you again.’

‘You don’t know her like I do,’ she snapped.

And he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Dannie recoiled, looking downwards and clenching his jaw slightly. ‘I’m sorry if I stepped out of line, I just care is all.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry.’ Therese sighed, offering her friend a tired, apologetic smile. She paused for a moment, gathering herself and planning her words carefully. ‘It’s just been a tiring few days… Months. She says she loves me. I know she really means it – I can feel it, you know? In the way she talks to me and looks at me.’

Dannie nodded, pressing her to continue.

‘Things are different in a good way, but we’re taking it slow. I’ve told her I need to take it slow, to be sure.’

‘Okay, good.’ His words were sincere. ‘I look forward to meeting her. Maybe you could invite her along the next time we head out?’

Therese looked around at the dark, dingy bar, grimacing. ‘I don’t think this kind of place is up her street somehow. She’s more of a fancy cocktail bar type of person.’

‘Hey, I can do fancy!’ Dannie argued, whilst simultaneously managing to spill the last of his beer down his shirt. ‘Ah hell, look what you made me do, Belivet.’ He attempted to dry the wet patches with the palms of his hands before giving up and slumping against the wooden back of the booth.

Therese couldn’t help but laugh at his resigned expression.

‘I’ve got a date with Louise later,’ he continued. ‘I hope she likes men who stink of Eau De Beer. Speaking of, you owe me another round.’

*******************

Later that evening, when Therese entered her apartment complex, she instinctively reached for the hallway phone. Placing change in the money slot, she dialled Carol’s new number. She’d already learnt it by heart.

‘Hello?’

‘Carol, hey, it’s me.’

‘Hey, you.’ She cooed. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you, too. How was work?’

‘Same old, same old. We sourced a nice vintage vanity today, I’ll be sad to sell it on, but I doubt you want to hear about that. How was your day?’

‘Good. Great, even.’ Therese tapped the phone and chewed her lower lip, thinking of how she could break her exciting news to Carol. Would she even be interested, she wondered?

‘I was thinking I might come over tomorrow evening, if that’s all right? I need your help with something.’

‘Well, you know I’d like to help you in any way I can,’ she replied huskily. Therese blushed at the implication behind her lover’s words. ‘Come over whenever you finish work. I’ll be in.’

Footsteps grew louder in the hallway, distracting Therese from the conversation. It was her landlady, returning from an evening shop at the grocery store. Therese offered her a shy ‘hello’ before placing the phone handset back to her ear.

‘Sorry, Carol, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘You’ll see me tomorrow. Goodnight, darling.’

‘Goodnight.’

She hung the phone up and ascended the stairs to her apartment. The excitement of seeing Carol again was already settling inside her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therese is such a bean and I l o v e her with my WHOLE heart. Carol, too. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for all the lovely comments so far. They really make my day. :)


	4. Chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably should be split into two chapters, but hey-ho, we're here, we're queer, it's one big mess. You know how it is. 
> 
> I've decided to write from Carol's PoV in the first half, which proved to be a little bit of a challenge. It goes back to largely Therese's PoV afterwards.

The bell on the shop door chimed as another customer, an elderly lady dressed in a large pink velvet coat and a satin scarf, left the store. She’d just placed a deposit down on a fine nest of mahogany side tables that were to be shipped to her address later the next day. Carol couldn’t help but feel pleased that it was her who managed to sell them. After all, she had sourced the set herself.

Now alone, the blonde woman took a moment to survey the base camp of her new workplace. She’d been working as a buyer for Derek Cartwright’s furniture shop for two weeks now. On a typical day, she spent almost half of her working hours on the move, visiting sellers and antique dealers to see their offerings and haggle prices down. It got her out and about, which was perfect for her: a woman who had a constant, itching need for distractions. She never was good at being able to sit still, even in her youth.

But that’s what she had been doing for the last few years of her life. Sitting still. Stagnant. Up until Therese had whisked her way into her life like a shower of rain after a summer drought, that is.

Whilst Rindy had given (and still gave) her the most beautiful purpose, and the ability to love and experience life in better ways, it was her married life to Harge that had brought her tumbling down. He had largely taken away her independence and it had gotten to the point where she very rarely felt like her own person. Whenever she wasn’t confined to the house, he was out leading her by the arm to one of his social gatherings, showcasing her amongst his acquaintances like a prized possession. It made her stomach churn.  

But things were changing now. She was living her own truth – moving alongside her own grain – and she could feel her strength building up brick-by-brick, day-by-day. Carol Aird was finally finding herself again: a mountain behind a shroud of trees.

That said, there was still a void in her life; a black hole that sat in the periphery of her vision wherever she went.

Rindy.

She missed her. And it was a constant, debilitating loss that tore her apart. Even now, after the court hearing, she dedicated hours each week to calling Fred, her lawyer, to negotiate visits despite knowing she’d hear a hard ‘no’ more often than not.

And when she was left alone in her new apartment, she couldn’t help but imagine her daughter somehow finding her, knocking upon her front door with a childish grin spread across her beautiful face. ‘I’ve missed you, Momma,’ she’d say, and Carol would bundle her up in her arms tightly, kissing her face until the girl protested and squirmed away. She would promise to never leave her again.

Oh, how she missed her infectious, bold personality, the smell of her hair, her sweet little voice... But until she could wear Harge down enough to get access to her daughter again, however hard it might be, she had to focus on herself. She had to keep herself occupied.

Fortunately, her new job gave her a thrill that she hadn’t experienced since running a furniture partnership with Abby year’s ago.

Carol’s lips quirked into a devilish smile. _Abby_. She had yet to update her on the situation with Therese.

‘Derek?’ She called out to the back of the store, praying that her voice would cut through layers upon layers of scattered furniture. The place was full of all kinds of treasures.

A short man with brown, thinning hair emerged from behind a tall wardrobe, a pen and paper in hand. He’d been taking stock, as he did every few days. ‘Hm. Yes?’ His voice was as soft as snow – faint, almost unintelligible.

‘A charming woman just placed a deposit on those tables,’ she pointed to them. ‘I shall contact our delivery man in an hour or two to arrange the drop-off.’

‘Ah, excellent! I thought they’d never sell,’ he chuckled, and she couldn’t help but smile. What a peculiar man he was, she thought.

Carol scribbled a quick ‘ _SOLD’_ in red marker on a card before walking around the till to place it on top of the tables.

‘Is it all right if I take my lunch break?’ She asked, although it was more of a statement.

‘Yes, go on, you’ve earned it.’ Derek ushered her away, kindly, with the wave of a hand.

‘Thank you,’ Carol placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly before heading towards the cosy office room behind the front desk.

Once inside, she closed the door, peered out of the fogged-over glass to make sure no one else would enter, and picked up the company phone. Whilst sitting down in an old, tanned-leather armchair, she dialled Abby’s number quickly.

‘Hello, Abby Gerhard speaking.’

‘You needn’t sound so formal, dear, it’s only me.’ She teased.

‘Ha. You’re very funny.’ Abby replied monotonously. Carol could hear her blow out a stream of cigarette smoke.

‘Yes, you could learn a thing or two from me.’

‘Did you have a purpose in mind for this call, or did you ring simply to annoy me?’

Carol laughed, causing Abby to let out a quiet snort. They always seemed to find humour in absolutely nothing at all.

‘Well, now that you come to mention it, I spoke with Therese. She met me at The Oak Room.’

‘What, and you’re telling me this now? It’s Tuesday!’ The woman argued.

‘I’ve been busy.’ Carol bit her lip, trying to fight back the urge to say something about her Friday evening activities.

‘Oh-ho-ho, I bet you have, missy. What happened?’

‘Well, when two people have a certain affinity, one thing leads to another and-’

‘For crying out loud, woman, must you be so insufferable?’ Abby exclaimed, exasperated, though the blonde woman could feel the light-heartedness in her tone emanating from the handset. ‘ _What happened?_ ’ She repeated, eager for an answer.

‘We talked. And kissed and made up… Mostly.’ Carol’s mind wandered back to the conversation she’d had with Therese on Saturday morning. ‘You’ll be happy to hear that I followed your advice.’ She continued, clearing her throat to make way for the weight of her next words. ‘She says she loves me, too.’

Despite the happiness that consumer her insides, threatening to spill over at any time, her eyes welled with tears. Losing Therese had taken its toll on her, as Abby was well aware. And, as much as their first, tentative steps together these last few days were positive, Carol was still desperately afraid of losing it all again. It made her nervous, and she was worried she’d become overbearing. Therese meant more to her than she could ever know. Couldn’t she see how committed Carol had become? The extent of her feelings towards her? She wished she could know for certain that they were on the same page.

‘Do you believe her?’ Abby’s voice had lost its playful edge. Her words were now coaxed with gentle affection.

‘Yes. I think so. Though I don’t understand what she sees in me,’ she said in a matter of fact way.

‘That girl’s been in love with you from the get-go. Trust me, you nit wit, I can see it. _She loves you_.’

Carol merely hummed in response. There was a brief silence.

‘When are you seeing her again?’ Abby pressed her.

‘Tonight, actually, after work. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Make sure you give her my best. It’s been months since I last spoke to her.’

A knock on the door pulled Carol away from the conversation. ‘Hold on a minute,’ she uttered to Abby before placing a hand on the phone speaker.

Derek peaked his head around the door, anxious to disturb her. ‘Carol, Harold’s here from Whitworth Antiques – he wants to speak with you about the French vases.’

Noticing the phone by her ear, he held his hand up as a way of an apology and pulled the door to.

‘I’ve got to head back to work. Are we still on for later this week?’ She asked apologetically.

‘Yes, of course. You better fill me in on everything I’ve missed.’

‘I will, I will.’ Carol promised.

‘Now go back to saving furniture, or whatever it is you do.’ Her friend said jokingly.

‘I see you’ve forgotten the ins-and-outs of running a furniture store in your old age, then.’

‘The signal seems to be going,’ Abby made fake static noises with her mouth, but they were mingled with a stifled sort of giggle, ‘I can’t hear you. Bye!’ The line went dead.

Throwing her head back lightly in laughter, Carol placed the phone on the receiver, composed herself and made her way back to the shop floor.

  ****************************************************************

Therese arrived at her apartment later than she’d hoped. Work had overrun by an hour, due to unforeseen circumstances. A local library had set fire and she had to be on hand to take filtered-through notes from the New York police department at a lightning speed. In the mad rush, she hadn’t had a chance to call Carol to update her of her timing. She hoped the woman wasn’t worried or, worse, making other plans.

Rushing across to her dining room table, she searched for a familiar box hidden under the unit, near the floor. Cradling it under one arm, she used her other to grab a large bag and stuff it with some items she might need: a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and her camera. It was already reaching 7PM, so she wasn’t sure if she’d need to stay the night.

Quickly brushing down her skirt and giving herself a once-over in her bathroom mirror, Therese collected her keys and ran out of the front door, eager to see Carol as soon as she could.

It was half an hour later when she arrived, out of breath, pressing Carol’s apartment intercom frantically. The older woman didn’t answer, instead merely buzzing her in. _At least she’s in_ , Therese thought.

She took the spare moment she had in the elevator to try and tame her hair and regulate her breathing, anxious that Carol might somehow find her windswept look less appealing.

When the doors slid open, making a short ‘ding’ noise, Therese walked towards Carol’s apartment. Her heart was fluttering in her chest.

‘Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ Carol said warmly, holding the door open for her.

Just the act of being in her presence made Therese’s body flush all over, her voice getting stuck in her throat. She wanted to throw herself onto the woman and kiss her feverishly, and yet she didn’t want to come across too eagerly. It was then that Therese realised she had no idea what ‘taking it slow’ really meant at all. How can one regulate love? Or withhold instinct?

Carol gave her an incredulous look, her eyes squinting slightly, creasing the laugh lines that Therese adored.

‘Is everything all right?’ She asked, taking a small step towards the brunette.

‘Yes…’ It came out as barely a whisper. She didn’t have the words for what she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Carol placed two fingers under Therese’s chin and gently tilted her head upwards, her blue-grey eyes seeking contact. When they locked gazes, she moved in closer, dipping her lips down to kiss the younger woman’s.

Any nervousness or doubts Therese had held onto vanished, the constraints around her mind feeling looser at the contact. Getting lost in the moment, she wrapped a hand around the back of Carol’s neck and moved her hips forwards. The length of her body was now completely flush against the older woman’s.

Shocked by her boldness, Carol lost her footing slightly and stumbled.

She attempted to pull away, perhaps to say something blithe about her clumsiness, but Therese pulled her closer only to push her against the apartment door. Her kisses were forceful, biting, desperate, and neither woman had room for breath. She wanted to consume all of Carol, even if it meant suffocating.

‘Is this what you needed help with?’ Carol smirked as they both paused for breath, her cheeks now a deep shade of red.

‘No,’ she kissed her once more, deeply, before trying to remember her initial purpose. ‘No… Sorry, I got caught up. Why did I need your help?’ Therese asked herself, squinted her eyes shut in thought, embarrassed at how forward she had been.

When she opened them, she saw Carol looking at her with a mixture of adoration, humour and, was it lust? ‘You needn’t apologise,’ she said, pushing her to the side softly and sauntering into the living room. ‘You can get as caught up as you like with me.’

Therese’s mouth fell open and she had the mild feeling that she might faint. She stood in place, dumbstruck, as her eyes traced Carol’s every movement, from the sway in her hips, to the confidence in her posture. When her mind caught up with her, she hurried after her, as she knew she always would.

‘Have you eaten, darling?’ Carol asked, as if their heated exchange had never happened. ‘I’ve got some bread, meats and cheeses if you’d like, or I’d be happy to cook you up something.’

‘No, I’m not hungry.’ But her stomach rumbled, and Carol had heard it.

Without saying a word, the woman busied herself around the kitchen and made Therese a platter of food. The brunette ate in silence at the small four-person dinner table, grateful for the sustenance. She realised it had been well over eight hours since she had last eaten.

‘So, what was it you needed help with?’ Carol enquired, her hand placed on Therese’s lower back, guiding her into the living room.

‘Oh, yes.’ She reached into her large, black leather holdall and took out a shoe box. She placed it on the glass table and sat down on the floor next to it, her legs curled under her. ‘Come, sit,’ Therese patted the floor, gesturing for Carol to join her. The blonde woman leaned into her, their arms brushing, and Therese felt woozy as she smelt her perfume.

‘The Chief Photo Editor at The Times wants to see another portfolio of my work,’ Therese continued, ‘if he likes my pictures, he might let me try out as an Assistant Photographer. Or so I’d imagine.’

A proud smile slowly stretched across Carol’s face, her eyes lighting up.

‘Therese, darling, that’s wonderful!’ She exclaimed, pride shining through her voice. She couldn’t help but give Therese a quick, excited kiss. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

The younger woman blushed and leaned in closer, resting her head ever so slightly on one of Carol’s shoulders. ‘I’ve brought along some photos for us to choose from. But, first…’ Therese opened the box and carefully took out a wad of photographs, bundled together with a single elastic band. She held them close to her chest for a brief moment, shy at the thought of sharing something so personal, so telling. She slipped off the band and, with confidence, spread the photos out on the table: snapshots of tall pine trees, and Christmas decorations in sleepy streets, and empty service station restaurants, and cars blurring into the night like the ghosts of memories… And photos of Carol.

Photos of Carol smiling with her eyes looking into her lap. Carol driving with her gloves held precariously in one of her hands. Carol shifting off her fur coat, her hair brushing against her eyelashes. Carol asleep, exposed, her fingers ghosting her cheek.

And, in between, photos of Therese, too, that Carol had taken when she wasn’t looking. It was a sad surprise for the brunette when she eventually developed the films.

‘I was going to throw them all away, but I couldn’t.’ Therese confessed softly, suddenly worried that showing the photos might have been a bad idea.

Carol still hadn’t said a word, her eyes fixed upon a singular photo, which her hand stretched out to touch. It was a blurry picture of Therese laughing, dimples showing, her hair blowing into her face as they took a brisk walk in Iowa.

‘Just as I remembered…’ Carol whispered.

And Therese could only nod knowingly. She had felt that same aching nostalgia, too. It’s why she had hidden the photos away.

Carol turned to face her, her eyes wide and glistening with fresh tears. ‘May I keep it? I’d like to put it in my purse, so you can follow me everywhere.’

‘Why that one?’ The younger woman asked curiously.

‘You look so carefree - happy. It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful.’

The atmosphere between them fell silent. Suddenly the photos didn’t matter as much as they had done. There was only the two of them.

Carol caressed Therese’s cheek, placing her thumb over a faint, concealed dimple, just like she had done with the photo. She looked deeply into her eyes.

‘Thank you for showing me these. I wish we could have seen our trip through.’ She said, pausing for a beat. ‘I’m sorry I left, darling.’

There was a flash of uncertainty and hurt in her partner’s eyes that Carol desperately wanted to set right. But she could only hold her.

‘In a way, we’re on a different sort of journey now.’ Therese muttered. ‘What was it you said to me? A perpetual sunrise.’

Carol hummed in agreement.

‘That’s what we are now, I hope. That’s where we are. Our lives stretched ahead of us, looking onward towards the sun.’

‘I’ll follow you for however long you’ll have me,’ Carol said, sealing her statement with a kiss.

‘I’d like that.’

 ****************************************************************

Hours later, the two women were hunched over the dining room table, selecting the perfect contenders for the portfolio Martin had asked for. They were already on their second bottle of red wine, and Therese was beginning to feel the warmth and light dizziness that came from drinking.

So far, they’d chosen five striking candid portraits of strangers, all of which were raw and revealing in their own unique ways. Therese felt as if she knew the characters before her better than they knew themselves, even though she had never spoken to them. Her favourite photograph was of two women walking hand-in-hand, navigating an icy footpath in the middle of winter. Despite the treacherous conditions, they’d found happiness in the shared challenge. Trust radiated from their faces.

And was it love, too? She wondered. Did they feel the way Carol made her feel?

Therese couldn’t be sure, but she found solace in knowing that there were others out there with their own secret loves, floating around the sharp edges of the world in their own bubbles.

She glanced at Carol who was deep in thought, surveying two photos in her hands. The blonde had chosen to help her without question. A heat rushed through Therese, more intoxicating than the wine. She wondered if Carol would take her away and touch her all over, if she asked.

Swallowing the thoughts running through her head, she set her mind back to the task at hand.

Deciding to cover all bases, Therese picked out a few landscapes and industrial photos that she’d taken on her road trip with Carol. She wanted Martin Foxe to know that she had an eye for anything. No matter the subject, she could frame it with her audience in mind, persuading them to feel as she pleased.

Although she had wanted to use a photo or two of Carol, the woman had protested, deciding that she wanted to keep the photos in an album for them both to look at. Yes, the memories were painful, but there was some joy to be had in reliving them. And, in some ways, a careful prompt to work harder towards their relationship and be grateful, too.

The photos were a reminder of how far they had come and how far they might go.

Therese tried to hide a large yawn behind her forearm. The strewn photos on the table were beginning to blur into one.

‘You’re tired,’ Carol observed. ‘Shall I call you a cab?’

‘No, but I should like to go to bed.’

‘I see… Are you certain?’ The woman spoke slowly and carefully, unsure of the insinuation behind her words.

Therese shot her a sure, but sleepy, look. ‘Yes.’ Her head was still swimming from the wine. She just wanted to be in bed laying beside Carol.

‘Well, then, off to bed with you, sleepyhead.’ The older woman smiled, rising from her chair and taking hold of Therese’s hand, leading her gently along to the bedroom.

Once inside, Carol instinctively made her way to the bathroom with her night clothes in hand, preparing to get dressed and ready for sleep in private.

‘No.’ Therese commanded softly, though her words seemed to echo around the room.

Carol spun on her heel and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘I want to undress you.’

‘I think the wine has gone to your head, darling.’

‘Please.’ Therese murmured.

Her partner stepped forward, silently, throwing her night clothes onto the bed in the process. She simply nodded her head in consent.

Therese held her by the waist and lightly pushed her down onto the bed. Liquid courage and lust flowing through her veins, driving her forward. She straddled Carol’s waist and slowly started pulling clothes off her body, one item at a time, until she lay bare before her. A speckled flush spread across her face and chest. Her breathing became shallow.

Then, in a move that surprised them both, Therese undressed herself, too.

‘You said I could get as caught up as I like with you,’ she said huskily, diving her head down to kiss Carol’s neck.

‘Yes,’ Carol replied breathlessly. She placed a hand on Therese’s waist, stroking it up and down her side.

‘I wanted to earlier, but I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.’

 ‘I like it very much, darling.’

The alcohol was loosening her tongue, and truths were beginning to fall seamlessly from her mouth like spilt ink.  They echoed the brutal honesty of the unsent love letters she had written to Carol all those months ago.

‘It scares me how much I want you,’ Therese continued. She trailed her kisses to one of the woman’s breasts, her right hand paying close attention to the other.

‘Why?’ It came out as a strangled moan. The brunette was rocking her hips gently against her now.

‘I lose the ability to think clearly. I give into you.’ She looked upwards, catching Carol’s eyes which were glazed over with lust. The woman was restraining herself from asserting control. ‘But maybe that’s not always a bad thing.’

Carol moaned once more, frustrated at the lack of physical contact where she needed it most. ‘Please, Therese, touch me.’

It was all she needed.

Therese flattened herself and shifted to the bottom of the bed, placing her face in between her lover’s thighs. She dipped her lips and tongue downwards, tasting Carol, and then placed two fingers inside the woman’s centre.

Carol gasped loudly, her hands tugging at Therese’s hair, her hips grinding against her face desperately.

‘I love you,’ she whimpered, her breath jagged.

When Carol finally found her release, she could see a sunrise bursting in oranges and pinks behind her eyelids. She knew, then, that they were indeed on the same journey now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm worried I'm progressing a little too fast, but in my mind's eye Therese and Carol (like any other couple) would need to acknowledge and accept what had happened between them relatively fast if they wanted to move forward. 
> 
> I guess, then, this chapter (and C3) is largely about them finding and sharing control where they both need it, as well as making room for the past. Their trip will always be a painful memory, and perhaps it might cause trouble in the future, but it shouldn't be forgotten. I think accepting it as it is will help them build trust and pave a path forward. Onwards and upwards, as they say. :) 
> 
> Thanks again for your continued support, comments, etc.


	5. Chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, gays, your wish is my command. Here's chapter five. It's fairly lengthy and full to the brim with dialogue (possibly a bit too much).
> 
> It's hot off the press (I literally just finished lol), so I may go through and edit at a later date. I trust that I haven't made any huge ass errors (writing is my day job, after all), but ... .. .. . you know.... .. . . I'm only human.
> 
> Enjoy!

The late April wind tickled her face as she perched alone on Carol’s balcony. Therese tilted her head upwards, her eyes closed, and let the heat of the sun warm her. She felt like she was amongst the clouds at this height, floating, at peace.

Spring had always been her favourite time of year: it was the season of new beginnings and rebirth. And she was certainly going through a new beginning, herself.

Therese placed her forearms on the railings and hauled herself up, her feet lifting from the floor, kicking lightly. She smiled giddily.

It was Friday.

Today, she’d hand Martin Foxe her portfolio and, with any luck, she’d be doing more than typing up minutes and lugging bottle after bottle of developer chemicals around the office. The possibilities buzzed around in her head, distracting her. She knew she shouldn’t think about it now, to save herself the pain of a potential rejection or harsh criticism, but the thoughts were addictive. Therese craved something new, purposeful, and she was eager to finally nurture her talent in a meaningful, engaging environment. It occurred to her, too, that this might be only a handful of chances she’d ever get.

As a young, quiet woman slotted into a predominantly male world, she knew her chances of being picked from the crowd were slim. She hoped what talent she had was enough to push her through.

‘Nervous?’ Carol asked. She approached her from behind, still dressed in a bed robe. The woman had the day off from work.

‘No. Excited.’ Therese beamed, her dimples prominent. It was infectious.

‘Good. You’ll do wonderfully, darling. I’ll be thinking of you all day with my fingers crossed.’

Therese guided Carol inside and slipped her arms around her waist. ‘I like the thought of you thinking about me. Like my guardian angel.’ She said, rocking them both side-to-side in a slow little dance. Her mind wandered to a past time.

Richard had never been _this_ supportive of her hobbies or career endeavours. Although he liked her having a purpose, he was always pushing his own ideas onto her, whether it was which Modernist piece of literature to read first (he swore by Gertrude Stein) or how she should be spending her spare time. In fact, if it were up to him, she’d be a submissive, susceptible housewife, loving him unconditionally and putting him above and beyond everything else. She’d only be there to make him feel good about himself.

It wasn’t like that with Carol. Yes, they were intrinsically different in almost every way, but they lived comfortably in parallel; following the same route, independent yet together.

Her lips pursed together, trying to supress a small smile, and she studied the woman’s face. Carol looked beautiful, as she always did. And she couldn’t believe she belonged to her.

‘You really are in a good mood, hm?’ Carol hummed, pulling her lover closer.

‘The day’s full of possibilities.’

‘And will there be a possibility of seeing you later?’ Carol asked. ‘I believe there might be a celebration in orde-’

‘We said no jinxing it!’ She protested loudly, making Carol chuckle.

Therese loosened their embrace and stepped aside to pick up her satchel, slinging it across her arm. She wanted to get to work early to hand Martin Foxe her portfolio for her own peace of mind. It was better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later, so the thought didn’t niggle at her brain all day.

‘I’ll call you later and let you know.’ Therese continued, walking briskly towards the front door. Carol followed her.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

Her eyebrows creased in thought. ‘Um… I don’t think so.’

The older woman shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully in disbelief before placing her lips on Therese’s.

‘Oh, yes… that.’ Therese blushed, clumsily returning the kiss. Even after everything that had happened between them within the last week, and the distance they’d covered together, the blonde still had a habit of rendering her completely flustered. She had a suspicion that Carol took pleasure in making her squirm.

‘I love you,’ she continued, the words tumbling from her lips, as if loving Carol was the most natural thing in the world. It was part of her now.

‘I love you, too.’

Her heart surged with a wave of warmth, crashing over her in one fatal blow. Carol’s love, she knew, would give her the confidence she needed. It’d protect her today, and all days, from the world’s sharp edges.

******************

Dannie greeted her outside of the building with a brief one-armed hug, quelling some of the nerves bubbling in her stomach.

‘How’s it going, Belivet? Got that portfolio ready?’ He asked, his lips quirked into his signature lopsided grin.

She returned his smile and nodded to her satchel. ‘All good to go. How are you?’

‘I’m swell. I’ve got another date with Louise tonight, at the pictures.’ He looked down shyly, and Therese could see that his feelings for the girl were genuine and all-consuming. It was the tell-tale signs of being in love. She knew the feeling well.

‘Although, I’m pretty sure Phil’s going to be working the reel,’ he continued, whilst opening the front door to The Times’ office building. His tone was stronger and surer now. ‘If he shows me up in front of her like he did with my last chick I’ll have no choice but to fight him. Or throw him out the flat.’  

Therese laughed, walking inside as he held the door open for her. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a great time, Dannie. I’m pleased for you.’

They each gave a quick ‘good morning’ to the receptionist – a sour looking woman with horn-rimmed glasses, her hair lifted tightly into a bun – and flashed their ID cards. The woman merely grunted a response before continuing to read her a novel, engrossed.

‘How’s things with Carol?’ Dannie asked, looking around them both quickly to ensure they were out of earshot.

‘So far so good. Well, more than good, actually. It feels nice… being in love.’ She rambled slightly, but she could see he understood. His eyes had softened.

‘Love, huh?’

She blushed.

After climbing the stairs to the photographic department, they made a beeline for Martin’s office. Dannie gave her a quick encouraging nod and squeezed one of her hands. He promised to wait outside for her before the office-wide Friday morning briefing began. Flashing him a small, quivering smile, she turned to knock on the Chief Photo Editor’s door.

A gruff ‘yes’ signalled that she could enter.

Stepping inside, she attempted to assess the temperature of his mood. His eyes were focused on a large stack of paperwork, with one hand rubbing the tension out of the back of his neck. Therese determined that he didn’t seem any more displeased than usual - just aloof. The day had yet to get into its full swing, though, she thought.

‘Good morning, sir. I’ve got my portfolio to hand.’ Therese began, timidly. She took a few small steps towards his desk and pulled the slip full of photos and a couple of notes out of her bag.

Martin lifted his eyes up, his stare bearing into her. ‘I see.’ His words were muffled by a lit cigar pressed between his lips, dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

Therese stood still, unblinking, her heart slowly sinking into her stomach. It felt like waiting for a ticking timebomb to either explode or be cut dead. She wet her lips lightly and tried to think of something smart, grown-up to say – anything – but her throat couldn’t produce any sound.

‘Well?’ Martin demanded, impatiently, one hand making quick beckoning gestures. ‘Hand it over so I can take a look. I don’t have all day.’

She let out a sliver of a breath and handed him the file. It felt like she had offered-up a piece of herself.

But before he had a chance to extract the prints, his personal assistant had abruptly opened his office door slightly, her head peaking through the gap. ‘Mr Foxe, the briefing’s about to start. They’re all waiting for you in the meeting room.’

Therese begged the woman to stop speaking, to leave, with her eyes.

Suddenly, she heard the loud clap of paper meeting wood. Martin has thrown her portfolio onto his desk haphazardly, as if it meant nothing and held no value. ‘Better get to it,’ he muttered, stumping his cigar into a glass ash tray. And then he vanished out the door.

The brunette stood for a moment, her mind lost in space. A part of her ached as she stared incredulously at her discarded work, abandoned on the table. The man hadn’t even tried to seem enthusiastic. He hadn’t cared in the slightest.

She wondered if he’d even remember to take a closer look at it later in the day. It seemed doubtful. She scolded herself for thinking it would turn out any other way.

Taking a large gulp, she tried to compose herself, and thought of Carol’s words to her this morning. She had had so much faith in her… What would she tell her if nothing came of this? Would the woman feel disappointed? Therese couldn’t bear the thought of letting her down or not living up to her expectations. She suddenly felt painfully average and foolish.

She heard Dannie’s voice before she saw him, his face plastered with concern. ‘Come on, Therese, let’s go sit in on the meeting.’ He said kindly. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’

On her way out, it took all of Therese’s resolve not to pick up her portfolio and pretend the event had never happened at all. 

******************

The hours dragged by torturously. Therese felt as if she were wading knee-deep in treacherous water – every task she was given, or conversation she had had, was physically exhausting. There seemed to be no end in sight.

After her brief ‘meeting’ with Martin during the morning, her mood had completely plummeted. She hadn’t heard a word from the man since and she was too nervous to approach him, despite Dannie’s gentle persuasions.

The brunette let out a drawn-out sigh, stopped typing, and looked at the small black clock on her desk. 4:50PM.

Therese had promised to ring Carol to update her on her plans, or lack thereof, but the thought of having no good news to tell her made her anxious. She would do it anyway, she decided, even if it was just so she could hear the woman’s soothing voice. Rising from her chair, she walked down to the payphones in The Times’ foyer. Although she had a phone near her desk, she felt more comfortable talking to her lover within the confines of a booth.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Carol picked up on the fourth.

‘Hey, it’s Therese.’

‘Sorry, I was just, trying – to – ouch.’

Through the phone, she could hear the clatter of metal, an incessant stream of curse words and then the sound of a running tap. Therese raised her eyebrows and cracked her first smile of the afternoon. Typical Carol.

‘Trying to ouch?’ She asked, teasingly.

‘Damned stove burnt my hand… You know I’m a useless cook.’ Carol sucked in a sharp breath before continuing. ‘So, dare I ask how today went?’

‘Well… I,’ she sighed, the tone of her voice dropping. ‘I gave the portfolio to him this morning, but I haven’t heard anything since.’ Her eyes began to sting with fresh tears.

‘Give it time, darling, I’m sur-‘

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Therese pleaded softly, and Carol could hear her the tears behind her words.

‘Of course.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Would you let me come and pick you up after work?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be there within the hour.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, holding the phone tightly, somehow feeling like everything would be all right in the end.

After they’d said their goodbyes, Therese walked back to her desk only to find a short, messily written note stuck to her desk. It was sat under a glass paperweight. ‘See me in my office,’ it said. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, looking for any sign that’d indicate its author.

Deep down, she knew.

Nerves began to build up inside her, but her desperation to know what Martin Foxe had thought of her portfolio was too big to ignore. Therese straightened her back, lifted up her chin, and tried to ignore her drumming heartbeat. She strode to his office with a new façade of confidence.

‘I got your note.’ She said curtly as she entered. His face seemed to twitch slightly in surprise at her brashness.

Looking towards his desk, she could see her photos dispersed widely, each clearly on display, taking up their own place. Martin was holding the photo of the two women walking together through the snow between his thumb and index finger. He waved it slightly, as if trying to bring it to life.

‘Miss Belivet,’ he began, though he seemed lost for words. ‘I must say I’m impressed. The composition, the light, the way you’ve managed to tell a unique story in each picture… These are very promising. Very promising indeed.’

Therese was taken aback, her eyes widening in disbelief. She couldn’t help but feel silly for how wound-up she had been earlier over nothing.

‘You think so?’ She asked cautiously. Nervously.

‘Hm.’ He mumbled in response. ‘You’ve got the eye. I can see you empathise well with your subjects.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Martin looked her up and down, not unkindly, in an impressed sort of a way. Suddenly, she was reminded of something Carol had once told her.

_‘You’re about as weak as this match.’ Carol held it burning for a moment after she lighted her cigarette. ‘But given the right conditions, you could burn a house down, couldn’t you?’_

_‘Or a city.’_

She felt like a burning match now.

‘I’d like to start you out with something small and see how you get on. I have an assignment in mind, but I’ll confirm the details next week.’ Martin gathered up the photos into a stack and tapped them lightly to straighten them out. He offered them to her, his arm outstretched.

‘All right?’ He asked.  

‘Yes… thank you. I’m looking forward to it.’ And she really was.

Before she left his office, he gave her a brief smile. ‘Nice work, Belivet.’

She struggled to understand how this was the same cold, unfeeling Martin Foxe from this morning.

***********

Dannie had decided to wait outside with her for Carol to arrive. Her friend had all but bounded in excitement as she retold the events of the afternoon and he felt sad that he couldn’t spend the evening celebrating with her.

The pair shivered slightly as the wind picked up.

Before Dannie could say something teasing about when Carol might arrive, the woman’s car pulled in beside the curb. She abruptly turned off the engine and exited the car. Therese noted the look of worry that sat upon her face, darkening her eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t updated her on the situation.

‘Carol, this is Dannie. Dannie, Carol.’

‘Dannie,’ she smiled warmly, shaking his hand. ‘I’ve heard wonderful things about you.’

‘Likewise,’ Dannie smirked, turning to Therese to give her a wink. The brunette avoided Carol’s enquiring gaze and jabbed him lightly in his side.

‘Therese and I were saying you should come and hang out sometime. It’d be great to get to know you.’ He continued, his words sincere.

The blonde nodded, before engaging in light, effortless small talk. After five or so minutes, Dannie waved an enthusiastic goodbye as Therese wished him luck on his date.

Now alone, the two women looked at each other silently, longingly, a large distance between them. They couldn’t embrace how they wished to out in public so, instead, Carol lay a hand on one of her shoulders.

It wasn’t enough.

‘Let’s make a move.’ She said.

 ***********************

They took off their shoes and hung their coats up together – an act which felt satisfyingly domestic to Therese. As much as she loved Carol’s bolder gestures of love, it was the small things that sometimes felt the largest.

Sharing a space with Carol, despite not living in the flat with her, felt like a silent commitment and an acknowledgement of trust. The blonde woman wanted her here, beside her, doing the everyday mundane things that couples do.

‘I’m taking you out to dinner.’ Carol said suddenly, boldly. ‘Tonight. To cheer you up a little.’

The woman placed a cigarette in her mouth and lit in, taking a slow drag of the smoke.

‘About that…’ Therese said, embarrassed.

‘Don’t you want to?’ The older woman asked, almost shyly.

‘No, it’s…’

There was a long, gaping pause.

‘Just after your phone call, Martin spoke with me. He liked my photos… And he wants to set me my first assignment next week.’ She braced herself for Carol’s response, whatever it might be.

But the woman didn’t respond.

Her eyes had lit up, and her mouth flung open in shock, but she said nothing at all. Carol hesitated on her feet ever so slightly before making a dash to the kitchen. The sounds of cupboards opening and cutlery clattering together echoed into the living room, perplexing Therese.

Before long, Carol paced back into the room, carrying a large cake with white frosting in her arms. The word ‘Congratulations!’ was piped rather messily, but endearingly, on the top in green icing.

‘I knew this wouldn’t be wasted,’ she said confidently. ‘Although I really can’t promise it’ll taste good.’

Therese’s face radiated with joy and surprise.

‘Oh, Carol… Is that how you burnt your hand?’ She asked, before closing the gap between them, taking the cake and setting it carefully on the living room table. Then, she embraced her lover in a hug.

Carol relaxed into her arms, running a hand through Therese’s hair soothingly.

‘I’m so proud of you, darling.’

They both leaned back before kissing one another. Therese could feel Carol smiling against her lips and it felt like home. Happiness surged between them like electricity, growing stronger each second they were touching. It was intoxicating.

‘Right. It’s settled.’ The older woman exclaimed as she pulled away, lightly tapping Therese on her behind. ‘We’re going out for dinner to celebrate.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therese is extra af and you can't convince me otherwise.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter - feel free to leave a comment if you did (or didn't!) I'm off to drink a crate of beer now that the weekend's here.


	6. Chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy Monday.
> 
> First of all, sorry I'm rubbish at responding to comments. For some reason the mobile website won't let me(?) Idk.
> 
> Anyways, here's a thing I wrote.

She had been awake since 4am, restlessly shifting about the apartment, her mind running and rumbling like a car engine desperate for some use. She hated silence. Sleeping alone – and living alone, for that matter – often made her uneasy. Bored, even. And with that sort of solitude came the misfortune of having time to really _think_ about things.

And there were so, so _many_ things for her to think about.

Settling on her sofa, basking in the soft early morning light, Carol lit her fourth cigarette. She lay her head back and looked upwards at the ceiling, absorbing the never-ending whiteness. Ribbons of grey, translucent smoke slithered their way into her vision like strands of hair. She couldn’t help conjuring up the image of Therese leaning down to kiss her, her brunette hair tickling Carol’s cheeks, neck, collarbone…

Now _that_ was the sort of distraction she needed; an embrace, a sideways glance, an atmosphere so thick of love and longing it sent her floating. That’s what she craved.

Her heart suddenly felt like lead, and she cursed herself for the sheer selfishness of it.

Therese had gone back to her apartment the previous evening, much to her disappointment. When she had lightly pried, the younger woman hadn’t been able to give her a concrete reason, instead choosing to mumble a barely legible excuse that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Carol had known it was stubbornness, or perhaps a defence mechanism. But it had made her feel regrettably impatient, concerned, and self-conscious all at once.

Therese didn’t _have_ to leave, but she had. Therese didn’t _want_ to leave, but she did.

Carol had to remind herself that it had only been a week or so since their meeting at the Oak Room. But, in many ways, it felt like a lifetime and she knew Therese felt it too.

_The girl just needs time to set it all right in her head_ , she thought.

It was a waiting game. And, despite being dreadfully impatient by nature, she’d resign herself to waiting forever for Therese if she had to.

Sighing, she tapped the burnt ashes of her cigarette into an ashtray and left it there to burn out.

But it wasn’t her relationship with Therese that was the biggest footfall in her life. There was something far bigger.

Making her way to her purse, she gingerly pulled out a worn, creased photograph of Rindy. She was wearing smart Sunday clothes for the occasion, her hair neatly pulled back by a hair band, a wide smile tugged at her full cheeks. Her sweet girl. Carol’s lips quivered slightly when she thought of how long it had been since she had held her or spoken to her. Harge hadn’t called since the hearing. And for the first time in her life, she wished desperately that he would.

Foolishly, she thought her derailed courtroom speech might have dented his steely exterior, or perhaps given him the kick up the backside he needed to rethink his appeal. She was wrong.

The uncertainty, anger and mourning that she felt for her daughter grappled her lungs, squeezing the air out of her. Her eyes welled with tears. Clenching her jaw, she tried to bite the thoughts back and settle the turbulent waves inside her. Rindy wouldn’t want her to be upset.

Carol looked towards her handset and made a mental note that she’d call Harge directly – not Fred. Soon. She’d call him and demand he let her visit her daughter. It was her right as a mother and she’d be damned if he took that away.

But, in the meantime, she needed company: somebody to vent about these things to.

Therese’s face flashed across her mind for a moment. But the thought of disturbing her this early on a Sunday morning, especially after she’d left the night before, deterred her. She wouldn’t bother her, Carol decided. The girl clearly wanted space, and this was the last thing she’d want to deal with. Bringing up Harge and Rindy again, so soon into their newfound relationship, could only push her away.

Picking up the phone, she dialled Abby. The woman was scheduled to come over in the afternoon regardless, but she prayed the woman was awake.

 **********************************************************

‘I got here as soon as I could,’ Abby said, shifting off her coat and draping it over a small chair in Carol’s hallway. ‘You’d think traffic wouldn’t exist at this godforsaken hour on a Sunday.’

She looked expectantly at the other woman, anticipating a small laugh or a raised eyebrow, but Carol gave her nothing.

‘Is everything all right?’ She continued, cautiously. ‘I wasn’t meant to come over for another couple of hours.’

‘The usual,’ Carol responded with a small, sad smile. And she knew Abby would understand. She’d seen her through enough of the same pain before. They hugged, briefly, and Abby felt the tension within Carol loosen up a bit.

The two friends made their way into the kitchen. Abby busied herself with making two cups of coffee, already acquainted with the layout of the blonde’s new apartment. Placing a steaming mug in front of Carol, she sat down herself and outstretched a sympathetic hand across the table. They sat in silence for a few moments, lost in thought, but Carol found it oddly calming.

‘I’m going to contact him.’ Carol said suddenly, assuredly, taking a sip of hot coffee.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘What else am I to do? It’s been weeks. Fred won’t tell me anything, he – _Harge_ – hasn’t rung. I can’t stand another moment of uncertainty. I _won’t_ stand it.’ The blonde placed a hand on her forehead and rubbed circles over her temples, fighting back the urge to either thump her fist on the table or burst into tears.

‘When?’ Abby asked.

‘I thought today, perhaps. Later on.’

Abby looked at her with a quiet sort of confusion, her lips straightening into a thin line and her shoulders raising with a sharp intake of breath. Carol could sense she was going to say something honest, maybe even critical.

‘And Therese?’

_Therese_.

‘What about her?’ But she knew what Abby was getting at.

‘Where is she? Does she know you plan on contacting him?’

‘She’s at her apartment. And no. I didn’t want to bother her with it.’ Carol’s voice quietened, her eyes closing slowly as her eyebrows furrowed.

‘Carol…’ Abby began, clicking her tongue and pausing for a moment. ‘You want this girl to move in with you, right?’

The blonde nodded silently.

‘I know you want to protect her. God knows she’s too young to have to deal with this... But, she’s strong. And she’d do anything for you. If you really love her, you _have_ to let her in. It’s not enough to show her only part of yourself.’ Abby pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Carol, then took one herself. ‘I love you, I do, but you’re such a stupe sometimes.’

‘You’re right,’ the blonde sighed. ‘I suppose I’m worried it’ll scare her off. I already feel like I’m only grasping onto her by a couple of threads.’

She took a drag of her cigarette and thought about Therese’s exit the previous night. How could she blame the woman for retreating cautiously when she herself kept so many secrets even now? Perhaps Therese still felt that distance. Maybe she could see the mile-high wall that surrounded the topic of Harge and Rindy. And, if so, was it any wonder the brunette was always retreating, worried that somehow Carol might do yet another thing behind closed doors that’d hurt her? As she had done today, this very morning, by finalising a weighted decision without her.

‘Go, go.’ Abby commanded, swiping her hand in the air. ‘Go call her now and fix it.’

Wordlessly exiting the kitchen, the blonde woman made a beeline for her phone once more. She’d call Therese and invite her over, she decided, and hope the woman knew that she had slipped-up but was _trying_. Carol felt a large lump in her throat. What _would_ the girl have thought if she had phoned Harge without her knowing?

She dialled her lover’s number and the noise drifted seamlessly through the quiet apartment.

‘You better practice those puppy dog eyes, you nitwit’ Abby yelled from the kitchen, tutting.

 **********************************************************

Therese had taken the first cab she could flag down, running towards the vehicle and babbling the directions to the driver like a child. Carol had called her at 9am, asking her to come over as soon as she could. The brunette wasn’t quite sure what her intentions were. She tried to replay the intonation of the woman’s voice in her head as an attempt to prepare herself better, but it was fruitless.

Worry settled uneasily in her stomach, churning back and forth. Was she hurt? Or having second thoughts? Was it because she had left abruptly the previous night? Therese took to biting her nails and focusing on the blurs of people and buildings outside the taxi window: blacks, and greys, and whites, with dashes of colour.

The drive seemed to last forever, but she made up for it by sprinting to Carol’s door.

‘What happened? Did I do somethin-’

Her words tumbled out of her mouth before she could register who had opened the door.

Abby.

‘Long time no see, Therese.’ The woman smiled, touching her arm kindly before stepping aside to let her in.

Therese felt a sudden pang of embarrassment. It had been months since she’d last seen the woman, saying a heavy, yet vacant goodbye to her at the curb outside her apartment. Without Abby’s selflessness and tough love, she knew she would have fallen apart on the journey back to New York. She couldn’t thank her enough for it. And, yet, she hadn’t contacted her since.

But mixed with the embarrassment was an odd, bitter tasting kind of jealousy.

Although she’d always felt the undertones, after Abby had confessed her history with Carol all those months ago, Therese couldn’t help but see the woman as her rival. Yes, Abby was no longer romantically involved with Carol, but she _was_ still her first port of call whenever something went wrong. She was her port of call for anything.

And now, here at her lover’s apartment, Therese’s heart flared knowing that Carol had called Abby again. Instead of her.

Abby had been told something before her and she instinctively knew that, whatever it was, it was important.

‘Hello, Abby.’ She said simply, trying to hide how foolish she felt.

Carol padded over to the front door, smiling, but Therese shot her down with a steely, knowing stare. She could have sworn she saw her retreat inside herself slightly.

‘Come in, darling.’

She didn’t wait long to bite the bullet. ‘Can we talk in private.’ Therese asserted, ignoring Abby’s eyes that widened.

The two women made a move for the bedroom, leaving Abby alone to keep herself company.

Before she could even push the door closed, Carol had reached out for her forearms, turning her gently to face her. Her eyes seemed to survey every slight movement in her face. Therese shifted slightly, uncomfortable, and stared hard at the pale green carpeted floors, avoiding the blonde’s intense gaze. If Carol thought she could bend her to her will with some soft touches and kind words, she was wrong. She wouldn’t fall for it again.

‘So, what happened?’ She mumbled, concern threading through her voice.

The woman released a long breath – a stream of consciousness in its own right – as she tried to string together the right words.

‘I-’ The words wouldn’t come. ‘Nothing.’

Therese really looked at her now, her eyebrows twitching upwards. She could see the guilt swimming in Carol’s eyes and suddenly knew her worries were justified. ‘ _Nothing_ ,’ she repeated silently, more so to herself than to the woman standing in front of her.

She stepped backwards, preparing to walk out. But Carol pulled her back and held her lovingly by the waist. Therese let her.

‘No.’ She said. ‘Wait… Please.’

There was a short pause before she continued.

‘I couldn’t sleep, thinking about Rindy and… Harge’s radio silence. But it was early, I didn’t want to bother you.’

‘So, you called Abby.’ Therese stated bitterly, although there was a lilt of sympathy in her words.

‘Yes. To talk it though. I made a plan to call him and I wanted to run it by her…’ The blonde trailed off, visibly wincing.

Therese could see that she realised her mistake, but it hurt nevertheless. Stinging memories of Carol shutting her down and out after their night together in Waterloo resurfaced. As much as Therese didn’t want to relive the past again, she couldn’t forget the worrying snippets of conversation she’d heard between Carol’s and Abby that last night in Chicago. At the time, she foolishly pushed the concerns aside, believing that the older woman wasn’t truly capable of hurting her.

Well, she had.

‘I’m sorry, Therese.’ Carol said carefully, brushing a hand across Therese’s cheek. ‘Abby made me see sense – I should have come to you. That’s why I called.’

Of course she had.

‘Why didn’t you?’ She was confused. ‘Why are you incapable of telling me things?’

‘I didn’t want to scare you off, darling. Rindy isn’t your daughter. These things don’t concern you… You shouldn’t have to deal with the trouble of it all.’

The words hadn’t meant to sting, she knew, but they did. They were almost patronising, diminishing, a way of placing Therese in a box and pushing her to the side. It made her feel like nothing more than an accessory. Abby was her constant, forever there, and Therese could only peer through a fogged-over window, following silhouettes of Carol.

The older woman’s eyes widened with the realisation of what she’d said, but it was too late to take the words back. Therese felt incredibly small, suddenly wishing she could vanish into thin air or burst into flames.

Anger started to boil inside her.

‘If we’re together – if you love me – your concerns are _mine_.’ She said, her bottom lip wobbling slightly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. ‘And Rindy?’

_Rindy_ , Therese thought. _What about the girl_? Therese had only met her a handful of times, always with the shadow of Harge looming ominously in the background. But she was Carol’s flesh and blood and that very thought made her heart soar with love. A fierce need to protect the girl sunk into her bones. The muscles in her jaw tightened.

‘Rindy’s a part of you. I’d love her like my own child if you’d let me – if the world would let me.’

Surprise flashed in Carol’s eyes and her mouth fell open to say something. But Therese wasn’t finished.

‘You don’t get to keep shutting me out whenever it’s convenient for you. I want to be part of it all… Can’t you see that?’ Her chest heaved and fell quickly, her outburst had taken the air from her lungs.

And with that, she spun on her heel and left the bedroom, her mind in overdrive. Abby awaited her outside, her expression the picture of shock, her mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’ shape. Strangely, Therese truly believed that the woman was on her side, deep down. Perhaps Carol had treated her carelessly, too, once upon a time.

In spite of everything, she gave Abby a hint of a smile, as much as she could muster. It was a peace offering: an acknowledgement that she wasn’t at fault for dropping everything to help her friend out.

‘Therese…’ Abby started, her mouth opening and closing as she debated offering some further advice. After spotting Carol perched against the wall behind Therese, however, she kept her words short and inoffensive. ‘It really is great to see you again. You look very well. Please, don’t be a stranger.’

The younger woman nodded, breathing evenly to try and fight back her tears. Everything had been going so well until this morning, and now it seemed the world had crumbled in her hands within a matter of minutes. She glanced briefly at Carol, observing how tired and vulnerable she looked. The blonde woman held her arms across her slim-fitting blue dress, holding herself in place. Her face was positioned downwards, deep in thought, almost lost to the world.

But when Therese made a move for the door, she followed her silently.

‘I’ve made a damned mess of this,’ Carol exhaled quietly, one arm on her hip, the other sweeping her blonde hair back.

‘Please, stay. I love you. Let’s fix this.’ She continued, pleading.

Therese shook her head. She couldn’t.

Carol had called her over to tell her… What? That she’d been an afterthought? Not even her own afterthought, at that – _Abby’s_. And somehow, in the process of apologising, she’d managed to undermine and estrange Therese’s role in their relationship, too.

‘Good luck with calling Harge,’ she said, but not unkindly. ‘You know where I am if you decide you need me.’

Therese closed the door behind her.

**********************************************************

Abby fetched a handful of tissues, gently offering them to her before sitting down again, wrapping an arm around Carol’s shoulder. She held her close and waited a minute or two for her to regain composure. Sniffing slightly, Carol placed her head on a shoulder, her breathing evening out.

‘You’re incredibly snotty when you cry,’ Abby teased, and Carol couldn’t help but laugh.

‘You’re charming,’ she responded, straightening up slightly.

Carol’s heart thumped dully in her chest. The need to see Therese and fix the mess she’d made was all-consuming. But she knew she had to wait.

‘Ready?’ Abby asked, disrupting her thoughts.

‘Ready.’

For the third time that day, Carol Aird dialled her phone and waited for Hargess to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, Carol, my good bitch. Better luck next time. 
> 
> IMO Carol would still wanna like.... keep Therese out of that part of her life. I don't think she'd see it as a problem, though. To her it's just a way of protecting Therese from the issues and, idk, respecting her independence and youth. 
> 
> Also, if any of you want to follow me on tumblr, to see my face or the pointless stuff I post, I reside here: lesbin.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks again for all the lovely, motivational comments!


	7. Chapter seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, fellow gays. I wrote this last night in a flurry of productivity, so I'm gifting it to you now. It totals in at around 4000 words. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: I live in the UK, so my knowledge of NYC is.... literally non-existent. The only place I've ever visited in America is Florida which, honestly, I find hilarious and terrifying now. I wasn't aware I was a lesbian either time I visited, though, so! It was fine. No one shot me or fed me to the alligators.
> 
> (Sorry, is this really insensitive? I don't know.) OKAY HERE'S THE CHAPTER:

Washington Square Park was absolutely breath-taking, brimming to life with full, freshly bloomed trees and colourful shrubbery. The grass appeared more vibrant under the afternoon sun than Therese could ever remember it looking. And even the pathways that shimmered with the morning’s unexpected June rain shower seemed to sparkle, as if they were somehow brand new. The whole space was a pleasant anomaly; a small Eden in the heart of New York City. It was her place to breathe and collect herself.

She sat alone on a wooden bench and watched the flurries of strangers walking to and from their destinations. Children who had finished their days of school lessons skipped along the greenery, their mothers scolding them for messing their newly polished shoes in the wet grass. Business men and women who dressed smartly - their faces steeled with the pressures of their working days – scuttled along quickly, eager to return home to their families. Young couples and university students talked loudly, laughing at nothing and everything, making plans to bring beer and records to so-and-so’s house party later on that evening. Even the dogs that padded by sniffed the air with a sense of wonder and joy, eager to explore the world.

To Therese, it seemed that everyone here had a purpose of some sort, or at least something that gave them joy. They all sought out their own paths naturally, instinctively, uniquely, each the same but different. Little did they know, however, that they were all part of her purpose, too.

Bringing her camera up to her eye line, she looked through the rangefinder and framed her subject, twisting the lens to focus and… _Snap_.

She smiled. It was a decent shot and she’d been quick to take it. The elderly lady carrying a large gift bag tentatively in her arms – for who knows who – would never know that she’d been immortalised, unaware, in film. That said, Therese sometimes wished the people she photographed could know. She wished she could show them the physical end-product and watch their reactions. Would they be happy to be an artist’s muse? She wondered.

It wouldn’t be long until she could showcase her photography to a wider audience, though.

The Chief Photo Editor of The Times, Martin Foxe, had finally offered her her first assignment earlier in the day. A week after their initial meeting, as promised. She was to accompany a junior entertainment reporter the following week to the Black Cat theatre – a small community theatre, run by Mr Donohue, a man who directed almost all of the company’s plays. The Times were to write a small article on how smaller productions fared in a city where Broadway’s glitz and glam dominated, stealing the limelight. Of course, Therese had no doubt it’d be placed towards the back of the issue, but she didn’t mind too much. Any opportunity to photograph something, or someone, was better than running about the office bored out of her mind. It was progress, no matter how small it might seem. Besides, she even had experience designing and creating theatre sets years ago, back when she was finishing school and delving into the art scene, so the topic did interest her.

She smiled to herself. Her photography career seemed to be coming together nicely. And she couldn’t help but feel like this was just the starting line of it all.

In her excitement, she’d finished work slightly earlier, so she could take a trip to the park to practice. Picking up her camera once more, she focused on a stranger who demanded her attention. Hiding under the shadow of an oak tree, a woman wearing a masculine tailored suit with her hair fashioned strikingly short, smoked a cigarette in solitude. Therese snapped her shot.

Before long, a typically feminine looking woman joined her, and they walked together at a distance, talking sparingly but sharing frequent glances.

Therese knew they were a couple immediately.

The park was relatively close to Greenwich village, after all. And she knew that the likelihood of seeing some unique characters was a possibility.  

It was a place notoriously full of men and women who were inclined to fall for people of the same sex. She’d heard stories, gossip, and saddening truths through the grapevine during parties and conversations with acquaintances. And, through the lonesome months of the winter, she’d even decided to research into the topic some more. She had read some disturbingly unfeeling psychological journals, as well as some scarce but beautifully honest personal accounts.

She knew that women offered their lovers engraved rings and necklaces instead of wedding bands, and how masculine-looking women could never hold down a job for too long. Therese knew that saddened women took their own lives or committed themselves to months of therapy, and that sometimes homosexual men and women married one another to avoid society’s questions. She knew that bars where she could comfortably visit existed, but also that they were frequently raided by the police if the owners couldn’t cough up their hefty bribes….

Yes, she decided, she knew some skirting details.

Lesbian women didn’t often have a decent time of it, but it was better than the stories she’d heard of the gay men, she thought. Oftentimes women who engaged in sexual intercourse were never truly trialled or arrested like the men were, but the definitions of sodomy varied in each state and every court was different. Fortunately, the small pocket of Greenwich Village was a secretive haven for those let down by society’s expectations.

Therese placed her camera back in her bag and pondered the subject further.

She’d come to the conclusion months ago that she wasn’t heterosexual. In fact, the stars seemed to align into perfect order after she’d met Carol. Looking into them, Therese had felt an odd sense of clarity realising that she’d never truly been interested in the opposite sex, nor ever would be.

Even so, she knew that Greenwich Village wasn’t really her scene. She and Carol didn’t follow the traditional ‘male’ and ‘female’ roles that many homosexual women did and, well, they weren’t too fond of the sweaty drunken dives either. It was okay, though, she thought. They could be themselves in their own way.

Leaning her head back, she looked upwards at the sky and felt a pang of something in her chest that she struggled to name.

Therese didn’t feel ashamed of who she was or who she loved. She knew deep within her soul that she couldn’t change it, even if she wanted to. In fact, her sexuality was freeing and beautiful to her, in an odd way. It was proof that she could feel, and be, so much more than she had ever once thought possible. The ability to love in any capacity was a gift. And she cherished it every day.

Only, she wished the rest of the world would, too. Staying hidden in the shadows, having to settle for being a second class citizen, and fearing being caught by the law took its toll. But she supposed it was worth it if you had friends who understood and a lover who spilled into your life like sunlight, brightening everything beyond comprehension.  

Carol’s face flashed into her mind and she felt queasy. She didn’t want to think of her, but even eight hours of work and an hour’s worth of people watching couldn’t keep her thoughts at bay. Thinking of Carol was natural to her. It was like the woman was part of her brain chemistry now.

She sighed deeply.

They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday morning, five days prior. Carol had called a couple of times, briefly, but they’d only spoken of small talk and nothing else. Therese, still feeling angry and hurt from their row, hadn’t been up for anything more. She couldn’t bear to be let down again.

But it was Friday now and she missed her so desperately her entire body ached. It felt like fatigue of the heart.

She hopelessly wished Carol would find her and apologise profusely, gathering her up in her arms and kissing her hard. Then they could get back on track and begin to plan for their future. If they still had one, she thought bitterly.

A small girl jogged lightly passed Therese’s bench, carrying a purple and green kite, laughing. She swirled the rope around vigorously and tried in vain to get the kite to catch the wind. Therese smiled, feeling a humorous type of sympathy for the child. She was desperate to see the thing fly, but she was doing it all wrong.

‘Here,’ Therese said gently, approaching the girl and her kite. ‘Can I?’

The girl nodded enthusiastically, watching Therese in awe as she let out the string a little more and ran back slightly, jerking the kite up quickly in response to a gust of wind.

‘There it goes!’ She exclaimed, laughing at the simple childish joy of it all. ‘Quick, quick, take the handle and fly it for yourself. Make sure you keep a steady hand on that rope, okay?’

The child took it out of her hands, a grin spread across her face, and proceeded to run down the path. Shortly after, her mother came up to Therese and thanked her for her kindness. She couldn’t help but blush slightly, glad that she had made the family happy. It was a satisfying feeling.

Picking up her bag, she decided to make a move and go back to her apartment to develop the photos she had taken.

As she walked, Rindy crossed her mind. The girl had reminded Therese of her.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Carol had thought of her comments on Sunday morning. Although, admittedly, she still didn’t know what to make of them, either.

Growing up without a father for most of her life and an uncaring, vacant mother had put her off motherhood. Or so she had thought. Her memories of being abandoned at a Catholic boarding school weren’t exactly pleasant ones… But, she supposed, her experiences sparked a ferocious need within her to protect other children from that same neglect and unhappiness. She didn’t want any other child to have to feel scared, alone, or hurt.

And the thought of Rindy living with Harge – a man who would stubbornly and unjustly take his daughter away from her mother just to make a point – filled her with rage. As much as he might be a good father to her, he was a temperamental, unpredictable, angry drunk. And no child should ever have to be at risk of being on the receiving end of that, she thought.

But… Did Therese really want to become another mother to her?

It was a question with no real answer other than yes, she’d like to try. Or she’d try as much as she would be permitted. After all, children weren’t allowed to have two mothers or two fathers. Not to the public’s knowledge, anyway.

She would never be labelled as her mother, or step mother, or whatever people called it. No. Therese would be addressed as ‘Auntie Therese’, perhaps, or ‘Mommy’s roommate’, if it ever came to that.

But she couldn’t know if the girl would ever love her in that way, or whether Carol would ever want to share her.

It was a topic that had surfaced completely out of the blue, and now she didn’t even know if it was worth the effort of thinking about. She and Carol felt like they stood a million miles apart again, back at the beginning of their circle. And Therese wasn’t sure if the woman would approach her again, in person, without first being pushed by herself or Abby.

She didn’t want to have to make Carol aware of her own mistakes again. That wasn’t her job.

Pushing open a metal gate, glistening with a fresh coat of black paint, Therese left Washington Square Park behind. She walked to the nearest taxi rank, climbed into the first car she spotted and told the driver to take her home.

**********************************************

Rifling in her bag, Therese tried to search for the used canisters of film before she had even reached her apartment door, eager to seamlessly begin the process of developing them. She needed the continued distraction from the heaviness of her week and the uncertainty of her weekend plans.

She stood still for a moment and held her bag closer to her face. The satchel was full of work documents, notes, makeup and other useless bits and pieces. It was proving extremely difficult to find anything in it.

‘Lost your keys?’

Therese jumped, almost dropping her bag, and looked upwards. It was Carol.

The woman was wearing a red blouse that dipped into a ‘v’ shape around her chest and a grey pencil skirt that fitted her figure perfectly. She was carrying a large bouquet – an amalgamation of tulips, roses and other flowers that Therese couldn’t remember the names of.

‘How long have you been here?’ Therese asked, her voice breathy, still recovering from the shock. Despite being inexplicably angry at the woman, her pulse rushed with the excitement of seeing her in the flesh. It had felt like a lifetime since they’d held each other.

‘Not long. Only a moment or two.’ The woman smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘We have a habit of running into each other coincidentally, don’t we?’

Therese cursed herself for the flush she felt in her cheeks. However, instead of responding, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the front door, gesturing for Carol to enter first. Inside, she walked towards the clunky wooden living room table and dropped her bag in the centre, pulling out her canisters of film.

‘These are for you,’ Carol said, interrupting her process.

Therese turned around to face her. She looked at the flowers, chewing her lip, and tried to hide the fluttering sensation in her stomach. Her body seemed to be dictated by Carol, no matter how she felt, whether she liked it or not.

‘What for?’ She asked, attempting to sound as indifferent as possible.

Carol closed some of the distance between them, her facial expression softening, and held the flowers out to Therese. ‘I believe I owe you an apology. And a big one at that.’

The brunette took the flowers, dipping her nose down to smell them. They smelt nicer than the flora in Washington Square Park, she observed, suddenly wishing she could take a photo of them.

‘Well?’ Therese pressed.

There was a moment’s pause.

‘I’m sorry, Therese, for what I said. For pushing you away… And reaching out to Abby about something that concerns us both – _you_.’

She hummed in acknowledgement, turning around and searching through a couple of her cupboards to source a glass vase for the flowers. After snipping off the ends of the stems with some scissors, and filling the vase with fresh water, she positioned them inside and arranged them slightly. Therese placed them on the table and admired how beautiful they looked once more.

‘I’m learning to be better, darling. I am.’ Carol continued, pleading slightly.

‘Hm. Why did it take you so long to see me?’

Carol hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Therese presumed the woman thought she’d be flattered, putty under her thumb, by now.

‘You were upset. I suppose I thought we both needed time to think and process the situation.’ The older woman said slowly, watchfully. ‘I’ve missed you terribly, mind you.’

Cautious that her resolve was beginning to crumble, Therese took a deep breath and steeled herself. They hadn’t discussed all they needed to yet. She wasn’t prepared to drop the conversation and have Carol brush it under a rug again.

‘And Harge?’

The older woman visibly flinched.

‘Yes… _Harge_.’ She exhaled. ‘We talked – briefly. I demanded to see Rindy and, well, he said he was open to the idea. Although, he didn’t word it in the kindest of ways.’ Her eyes seemed to fade out of focus, revisiting the memory of the call.

‘That’s good.’ Therese said.

The blonde woman stood in place, awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say next.

‘Then he asked me about you.’

Therese perked-up, her eyes widening. Her attention was wholly on Carol now, her entire body clinging on to her every breath.

‘He wanted to know if I was still seeing you. I said yes, of course.’

Words caught in Therese’s throat as she nodded somewhat, silently begging her partner to continue.

‘I think he expected me to lie, or sugar coat it for his ego, but I wouldn’t. I love you and I want you to be a part of my life. I won’t deny it… or try to hide it.’ The older woman released a shaky breath, exhausted at the simple act of reliving it. ‘But he told me he wouldn’t let me see her whilst you were there, at the apartment.’

Carol shifted her gaze and crossed her arms, suddenly looking fragile and self-conscious. Therese couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her heart, as well as the bitter taste that coated her mouth. She wished _she_ had been there at the time of the call, holding her hand in support, and not Abby. Suddenly she felt useless – an inanimate roadblock in Carol’s way.

‘Well. Things don’t always work out the way we want them to.’ She said solemnly, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all.

Her lover approached her now, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear before placing both hands on either side of her face.

‘And that’s what you want?’ Carol asked, looking searchingly into her eyes, unblinking. ‘To be able to see Rindy, with me?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, afraid that it wasn’t what her partner wanted. ‘She’s yours. And I love anything and anyone that’s yours.’

Before she could elaborate, however, Carol kissed her suddenly and urgently. Her lips moved desperately, in search of confirmation and something profounder. Therese stumbled as she pulled them backwards towards the wooden table, seeking something to prop herself against whilst the older woman continued her persistent ministrations.

A deep moan escaped the brunette as their kisses deepened, her knees suddenly wobbling with the effects Carol was having on her. But it was over too soon.

As if she’d been snapped out of a dream, Carol broke away, licking her lips and breathing jaggedly. Therese whimpered at the loss of contact, leaning her head further towards to seek out her lover’s lips once again. But Carol kissed her only once, quickly, and took a step back.

‘I need to finish what I was going to say,’ she said, sounding bewildered. ‘Before I get carried away and forget.’

‘It can wait,’ Therese assured, following Carol’s movements and reaching for her once more. Five days apart had left her feeling pent up. Carol smirked at her, her eyes darkening with lust, and perhaps satisfaction that she could render her that way.

‘No. Let me finish, darling.’

Therese’s face turned a deep shade of red, aware of how eager and insatiable she must have come across.

‘I told Harge that I’d like you to be part of Rindy’s life. I’m not going to send you out of the apartment whenever she shows up just to satisfy him.’ Carol smiled sadly. ‘It won’t surprise you to learn that he hung up the phone on me. But I said it, nonetheless... It felt good.’

‘Carol… You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t give up the chance of seeing her for me.’

‘I’ll keep pushing,’ she said determinedly, before her voice grew softer. ‘Rindy would dote on you, you know? She’d love you so fiercely.’

Tears welled in Therese’s eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She threw herself into Carol, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist and held her tightly.

Together, they were stronger: two pillars holding up their love in equal measure. Therese knew, with a surge of pride and confidence, that they’d manoeuvre their lives around any and every obstacle they’d face, side-by-side. Whether it was society trying to tear them apart, or the aggression of a single, petty ex-husband, they’d figure it out. They’d pave their course and conquer each time. And eventually, she believed – _hoped_ \- they’d see Rindy again.

Her veins coursed with the ripples of a new love: the unconditional, foreign love of Carol’s child. It gave her a nervous sort of excitement, but she let the emotions run their course. Therese had all the time in the world to get used to it. And she was sure Carol would be by her side to ease her along, helping her to understand what motherhood really was.

Pulling back and lifting her head up, she gave Carol a teary smile. She slid her hands up the woman’s back and held her closely, in awe of her beauty and strength. After a moment, she leaned in to place a long, slow kiss on the woman’s full lips.

‘I’m tired, I think… of waiting to be sure,’ she confessed, abruptly, after pulling away. ‘I’m fed up of giving myself reasons to say no to you.’

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I want to move in with you. I don’t want to spend a spare moment without you or leave you when I don’t want to.’

She watched Carol’s eyes swirl with apprehension. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

And she was. Therese was certain that she’d always wanted to say yes to the idea, but there had always been something pulling her back, preventing her. At first, it was lingering heartbreak and fear of abandonment. Then, Carol’s walls and elusiveness had given her a sense of anxiety. But, now, when she looked towards the possibility of a shared home, she saw an open door clear of any obstructions. She only saw Carol, her lover, with her arms outstretched.

Therese gave her a wild smile, her dimples showing, and it was so infectious Carol returned it. ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she repeated.

‘What about your flat?’ Carol asked, unable to hide her enthusiasm.

‘Well… It’s been paid for two months or so.’ Therese pondered. She hadn’t actually thought about that yet and she wasn’t sure what the best plan of action was. After all, she was hesitant to throw her money down the drain, and she doubted her landlady would return the rent payments if she asked.

She frowned, turning her head over her shoulder to look at the film canisters lined up across her living room table. ‘I suppose… until you can get my darkroom sorted at your place, I can always use this as my photography dungeon.’

And Carol laughed a hearty, genuine laugh that Therese rarely ever heard, and spun her around on the spot.

‘ _Our_ place. It’s _our_ place now, darling.’

They kissed once more, smiling against one another’s mouths in mutual excitement. Therese placed both her hands in her lover’s hair, pulling her closer.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you, too, darling.’

They spent a moment apart, happy to merely be in each other’s presence, before Therese pulled Carol by the hand and led her to the bedroom. Her lover followed eagerly, expectantly, desire mounting within her, intoxicating her like alcohol. But before she could make a move, Therese had knelt on the floor to pull out a leather suitcase, engraved with the letters ‘T. M. B.’ – the same suitcase that Carol had gifted to her all those months ago, along with the camera.

‘I thought you might like to help me pack,’ Therese offered. ‘Maybe we could start with this one suitcase and then-’ She stopped, noticing Carol’s hooded eyelids, parted lips and flushed cheeks. The woman was looking like she might eat her alive. In that moment, Therese realised that she had been expecting something entirely different. Blushing profusely, she stood up and approached Carol, spreading her hands on her chest.

‘We’ll pack later,’ she whispered huskily, placing grazing kisses on Carol’s neck, eliciting a guttural moan from the woman.

Carol wasted no time in pushing her onto the bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassingly, writing this did.... strangely... make me feel kind of emotional. Therese's realisation of her sexuality (in this) reminded me of how far I've come on my journey. I'm 23 and I've been fully out of the closet for over four years now. But, before I knew I was a lesbian? My life felt like a confusing blur. I always felt like I didn't know myself fully, or that I was incapable of loving. I don't know. 
> 
> But, you know, things have straightened out. I love myself and I love my life. I love who I am and what I have in store. And that's such a wonderful realisation to have.
> 
> A second realisation I had: I'm gay for Cate Blanchett. Lol. I joke. I've known that for years and years. Please, Cate, if you're reading this, feel free to punch me in the face or divorce your husband for me.
> 
> Also, as a sidenote, if any of you would like some further reading, could I please recommend Marijane Meaker's books on lesbianism, 'We Walk Alone' and 'We, Too, Must Love' (written in the 50s, under the pseudonym Ann Aldrich)? Admittedly, they're a bit un-PC and, from what I remember, unfortunately a little transphobic. The word 'transgender' didn't exist at the time (or wasn't widely used, at the very least), but still. It could be upsetting for some. Anyway, these books offer a really honest, personal account into lesbianism in 1950s New York (and wider afield). It's fascinating.... And the author also dated Highsmith for a time!
> 
> If you're in the UK, I've recently picked up Jane Traies' 'Now You See Me: Lesbian Life Stories'. The author interviewed hundreds of older lesbians and, well, this is basically a transcript of their accounts. It's saddening, heartwarming, inspiring, and yeah. Beautiful. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment, give me kudos, or find me on Tumblr and send me a massive whack on the back for writing so much whilst juggling a heavy schedule (again, under the username 'lesbin'). I hope you're all having wonderful days, wherever you are and whatever you're doing.


	8. Chapter eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. Work's been hellish at the moment, so I've only had fleeting moments to get writing done. Possibly not my finest, but here it is.
> 
> This chapter's mostly fluff and, well, there's a reason for that.
> 
> My lovely girlfriend works as a teacher. On a day-to-day basis, she deals with plenty of kids who struggle with mental health issues (for an array of different reasons.) Some of these kids are LGBTQ+ and, as most of you will have experienced at some point or another, deal with their fair share of bullying, dysphoria, bad homes etc. Unfortunately, some of them are only hanging on by a thread. There's not always a lot you can do, you know, as a teacher. But my girlfriend and some fellow teachers wanted to set up an LGBTQ+ club to give them a safe space to be themselves. The kids were really up for it.
> 
> Wanna know what the board said?
> 
> No. They said no because they didn't want to perpetuate that being LGBTQ+ was an acceptable thing to be. In their own words, just as much.
> 
> In other words, they're fine letting kids suffer. They're fine insinuating that these kids shouldn't be proud. And, by default, the LGBTQ+ teachers, too. I don't know about the US, but in the UK it's a legal requirement for most schools (depending on the boards etc.) to ensure that gay and trans kids are given the right support.
> 
> So, fuck that. Here's a nice chapter to remind myself, and every one of you, that being gay, or trans, or whatever, is the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

The mid-morning sun crept through the crack in the bedroom curtains, projecting darts of luminous yellow rays on the two women. Therese nuzzled her head further into Carol’s neck to hide from it, crinkling her nose in sleepy annoyance. In response, the blonde woman manoeuvred an arm under and around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her chest. Her other arm lay loosely over Therese’s back, her fingers lightly stroking the soft, bare skin.

‘Good morning, you,’ Carol cooed, the corners of her mouth creasing into a smile. She shifted them both upwards to sit against the headboard and looked down to observe her lover’s face.

‘Is it?’ Therese groaned. ‘I feel like I’ve barely slept at all.’

It was true.

They’d spent a large proportion of Friday evening packing away various pieces of clothing, personal belongings and small items of furniture in Therese’s apartment. Fortunately, the brunette had rented the place mostly furnished, so she had no need to worry about hauling around large sofas or white goods when the flat finally had to be vacated.

Once they were done, Carol had insisted, rather stubbornly, that they try and fit as many items as they could within her car. But, after numerous attempts to dent boxes into place and stack bag upon bag on Therese’s lap, they settled for only bringing the essentials. Even so, the car had been brimming with junk, and a lot of it wasn’t securely fastened into the rear bench seat.

The brunette bit her lip to stifle a laugh, remembering her partner’s cautious, verging on fearful, expression whenever an item had shifted dangerously close to the driver’s seat.

But neither woman had cared.

When they’d entered Carol’s front door just after midnight, exhausted from the tribulations of the last week, they shared a long, warming embrace. And it felt like coming home.

‘Every morning’s good when I get to look at you,’ Carol purred, trailing her eyes slowly down Therese’s body, appreciating every curve, every freckle. Everything.

Therese visibly glowed under her gaze, paralysed for a moment, before reaching up to cup the older woman’s face. She brushed her thumb across her cheekbone, tracing the strong outline. Automatically, it seemed, Carol bowed her head to kiss Therese’s palm, lingering briefly to bask in the skin-on-skin contact.

They stayed like that for a short while, contented, before Therese silently rolled partially onto her stomach and placed a leg over Carol’s. She raised herself up on an elbow, so their faces were almost level.

‘What are you thinking?’ She asked, gazing up at her.

‘Hm… I’m wondering how many more mornings it’ll be before the sight of me bores you.’

But Therese didn’t dignify her comment with an answer. Instead, she straddled Carol’s lap, exposing herself completely from under the bedsheets, and rested both hands on either side of her lover’s ribs. She looked directly into Carol’s eyes and demanded her complete attention. Then she kissed her, slowly and surely, biting gently on her lower lip before pulling back, her eyes twinkling.

‘We won’t get anything done at this rate,’ Carol teased, her eyes drawn towards Therese’s rising chest, then lower. She lifted a hand to her lover’s abdomen and scraped her nails downwards, lightly, tantalisingly slow.  

‘I don’t mind.’ It came out as a whisper. And she began to move her hips rhythmically.

Carol hummed, her hand dipping lower, through dark curls, seeking out the woman’s centre, and then -

The phone rang.

Both women jumped, startled by the unexpected noise.  

‘Christ.’

Therese rolled off, allowing her partner to quickly throw on a robe before rushing towards the shrilling ringtone.

‘Carol speaking, who is this?’ The woman questioned, almost aggressively, trying to disguise her previous arousal. There was a beat of silence.

‘Ah.’

Therese strained her neck to listen, but she could only make out a quiet mumble coming through the phone speaker. It could have been anyone, she thought.

‘Yes, she’s here.’

Another, louder mumble. And then more uncomfortable silence.

‘Don’t you _dare_ \- ’ Carol’s voice grew sterner now. ‘Of course I do, you know I do. But - I told you last week. She’s staying.’

Therese wrapped herself in a blanket and ran into the living room, concern plastered as plain as day across her face. Carol shot her a look, her eyebrows upturned and her mouth twitching at the corners. ‘ _Harge’_ , she mouthed, before focusing her attention solely on the handset pressed hard against her right ear.

The brunette watched her lover’s knuckles whitening with the strength of her grip.

‘ _Don’t_ call her that. I – no.’

‘Okay.’

‘See you then.’

Carol placed the handset back on the receiver loudly - violently, even - and then faced Therese.

‘Well, I don’t care much for him calling you a ‘perverted invert’…’ She growled, her teeth clenching together. ‘But… he’s allowing Rindy a visit next weekend. Here. For an hour or two, supervised.’

The woman brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s something, I suppose.’

Therese eyes lit up. It was more than something. It was _progress_ , no matter how small and insignificant it sounded, no matter how painfully awkward the visitation would be with Harge present. They’d get to see Rindy, together, for the first time since December. Only this time Therese wasn’t just a friend, or a shop girl who’d returned her mother’s gloves.

Carol strode towards her and held her hips. Her eyes seemed to brim with pride and admiration and desire. She chewed her lip and surveyed her own fingers that were deftly toying with Therese’s makeshift clothing.

‘You didn’t have to put a blanket on, you know. I much prefer you without anything on.’

‘Well, you didn’t have to put a robe on _,_ but here we are.’ Therese bit back playfully.

The blonde woman quirked an eyebrow and steadied her gaze. It was a silent challenge.

Within a flash, she seized a handful of the blanket and whipped it off a shocked Therese, throwing it on the armrest of a sofa, before untying her robe and letting it fall open.

‘Now we’re both happy.’ Carol smirked. She turned away and walked in the direction of the bathroom. ‘You can join me in the shower, if you’d like.’

*******************************************

Derek Cartwright greeted Therese into the large, cluttered antique store with a heartfelt smile and a firm, welcoming handshake.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Belivet.’ He beamed, throwing back his arm eagerly to welcome her inside.

Immediately, her nose was hit with a mixture of wood, polish and something that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was as if old memories, none of which belonged to her, had been brought to life hazily. The fog of the past, blurring her vision.

Carol lay a gloved hand on Therese’s elbow, gently pushing her further inside.

‘Anything in particular you’re looking for?’ Derek asked dutifully, almost mechanically.

‘No, no. Thank you, Derek.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Bits and bobs for my daughter mainly. I’m sure we’ll be just fine browsing.’

The man scuttled away to the front desk, making himself comfortable on a stool and tuned on the radio to give them something to listen to. To not intrude further, he dipped his head down to read a newspaper. It was The Times, Therese had observed, and she felt suddenly important. Her photographs, all well and good, would be in an issue next week. As soon as she made her trip to The Black Cat theatre.

They’d ventured out to look for the bare bones for Rindy’s room: a bed, a wardrobe and, if they could, a vanity. Carol already had a few of her daughter’s personal belongings – toys, hairbrushes and clothes - stored within the second bedroom of the apartment, hidden away in cardboard boxes. That said, the older woman _had_ left out the train set she’d bought the girl last Christmas at Therese’s counter at Frankenburg’s. When the younger woman had spotted it that first night, after their re-encounter at The Ritz (and, later, The Oak Room), her heart had risen as a lump in her throat. 

The couple continued to peruse the shop floor leisurely. Every now and then, Carol pointed at various pieces of furniture, ‘umming and ahhing’ as to whether they were the right fit for them. Though not all of them were considered with Rindy in mind, Therese noted, after Carol gestured to an adult’s wardrobe.

Eventually, they landed upon a small mahogany bed frame, clearly built for a toddler. It looked sturdy and timeless, but with subtle hints of character and. The wooden headboard was neatly engraved with a floral pattern - the mark of an experienced woodworker. 

‘Ah. This is the one. I picked it out myself the other day from Harold’s store.’ Carol stated proudly, making a note of it on her small pad of paper. ‘You might remember him. He dined with us at The Oak Room.’ Therese nodded. How could she ever forget even the smallest of details from that night?

Carol smiled at her knowingly, a wave of affection radiating off of her.

Shortly after, they settled on a small chest of matching drawers that they decided could house an agreeable amount of Rindy’s clothing. It would do in the meantime, and they couldn’t be sure when, or if, the girl would ever visit for more than a day, anyway.

They kept their thinking positive, regardless.

‘All done?’ Derek inquired perkily when they returned to the front desk.

Carol simply hummed in response and showed him the item numbers and details on her sheet of paper. He lowered his reading glasses, squinting at the writing, before pulling out his cashiers’ book to write the purchase orders.

‘Will you need delivery?’

‘Oh, yes. Make a note of the cost and I’ll go out back and ring Jamie.’ She made a move for the office door. ‘Won’t be long.’

Therese stood alone with the man now, awkwardly shifting on her feet. As much as he looked kind, communicating with strangers was never her strong suit. Especially those who were acquainted with Carol Aird.

He looked at her now, quizzically, with a hint of humour.

‘I hear you’re moving in with Carol?’ He asked. It was an attempt to make light conversation, but Therese could sense a deeper question behind the words. His curiosity was welcomed, but it made her uneasy.

Slipping up was all too easy if you weren’t careful.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re very young. Shouldn’t you be off finding a young man?’  

‘What makes you say that?’

Therese hoped the tone of rigid defiance in her voice would cut the conversation short, but Derek persisted. For some reason, she had found, men were always quietly intimidated by women who were young, single and getting by just fine. But, strangely, they were even more unsettled when women didn’t seem show _any_ interest in men, period.

Why did so many men think the world revolved around them, she wondered bitterly.

‘Don’t most young women want to settle down with a dashing man?’

She briefly thought of Richard and how the man, despite his best efforts, had completely disinterested her. The memory of his uncleaned nails and grating smile made her insides feel flat. Emotionless.

Carol had exited from the office now, unaware of the conversation at hand. Therese looked at her with a small flash of urgency whilst answering the man’s question. ‘Funnily enough, I’ve never seemed to have much luck with men.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find someone charming enough eventually,’ he assured. ‘You’re a pretty young lady.’

Sensing her discomfort, Carol interjected quickly, fishing out a stack of notes from her purse and handing them to Derek. As he focused on counting the money, she mouthed Therese a ‘ _sorry’_ and winked.

Therese hid a small smile.

When they left the store, their receipt and delivery details in hand, the blonde woman grazed her hand lightly against the brunette’s, teasingly.

‘I certainly hope you never have any luck with men,’ she joked.

 

******************************************

Once they returned home, Carol and Therese wasted no time in getting straight to work. Donning a pair of the younger woman’s off-white overalls, they each grabbed a roller and emptied a can of pastel blue paint onto a tray.

Silence descended upon them as they rolled out layer after layer of paint.

Therese had never seen Carol look so casually dressed, but it oddly suited her. She wore a loose-fitting white shirt, tucked into grey slacks, and had her hair held back with what she assumed was originally meant to be a neck tie. Her eyebrows were knitted together in quiet sort of concentration that Therese had never seen before.

In fact, those who didn’t know the woman might assume she was an artist, the brunette thought fondly. She fought the urge to ditch the paint and fuss over Carol.

‘Does Rindy like painting?’

‘Hm?’ Carol had been engrossed in the repetitive movements, her mind elsewhere.

‘I wanted to know if Rindy likes painting… or art.’ She asked shyly this time.

‘She adores it. Colouring with me is – was – one of her favourite hobbies.’ The older woman smiled. ‘Although, I was never good at it. God forbid I ever gave her the wrong coloured crayon.’

Therese laughed, imagining the girl’s exaggerated annoying at her mother making an innocent mistake.

‘I’d happily colour with her,’ she offered, continuing to roll out more blue paint on another patch of white. ‘Art is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.’

‘She’d love that.’

Carol looked at her, warmly, and then placed her paint roller on the floor haphazardly. Quietly, she surveyed the room as if it were brand new, focusing on one area in particular. They’d decided earlier that it was the best place to put Rindy’s bed.

The woman slipped behind Therese, wrapping her arms around her waist, and moved them both to face the wall in question.

‘Maybe you could paint a mural there,’ Carol suggested, ‘or whatever you artists call it. Together.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ She kissed Therese on her neck. ‘I’ll sit and watch and bring you tea.’

‘No. You should help… I like you in those clothes,’ the brunette protested, blushing slightly.

‘Well, then. That’s that.’

Therese turned around in her lover’s arms and kissed her hard, her head swimming with new, untouched scenarios that she couldn't wait to explore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please shout if you see any glaring errors! Barely edited this tbh.
> 
> Oh, and I hope you all have lovely weekends!
> 
> Peace, love, heart eyes emoji etc.


	9. Chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely knackered at the moment, so I hope this reads all right. :)
> 
> Also, I'd just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who's commented lovely, lovely things these past few weeks. It really makes me happy. You're all very wonderful.

‘Ready?’ Dannie asked, grounding the remains of a cigarette into the gravel with the heel of his shoe. A smirk played on his face as he jotted down a few preliminary notes on a small, brown leather notepad. He slicked his hair back haphazardly, still wet from the morning’s rain, and Therese thought he looked more like a writer than he ever had done before. There was something authentic, driven, and glimmering within him.

That’s why, for the day’s assignment, he’d been allowed to assist her and the senior entertainment reporter. His job was to take notes primarily, but he was also on hand to ensure no stone was left un-turned when the interviews came around.

The reporter in question was Daphne Reed, a middle-aged woman renowned by many of The Times’ readers for her brutally honest theatre reviews. She was a woman dedicated to her craft and the arts, and that much was evident on her face. In fact, Daphne seemed to wear a pensive, but intrigued expression at most times, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. It was if she reviewed everything and everyone around her like works of art. On meeting Therese, however, she’d loosened up a little, glad for the feminine presence and like-minded company.

‘I think so.’ Therese finally responded, flashing both Dannie and Daphne a nervous smile. She placed a new roll of film in her camera and wound it. ‘I’m just taking a couple of photos. How hard can it be, right?’

The three of them walked alongside one another into The Black Cat theatre to meet Mr Donohue.

He eagerly hopped over the wooden theatre floor to greet them, bowing slightly as he shook each of their hands one by one. Then, after straightening up and patting down his loose-fitting shirt, he clapped his hands together and gestured at the modestly sized room surrounding them. To Therese’s left was the elevated stage, curtains drawn apart, with the finishing touches of a set taking form in the centre. Various stage hands were walking to and fro, carrying props and assembling precisely-cut wooden blocks, carefully shouting co-ordinations to one another. A fluttering noise rippled through the air as they released the set’s backdrop: an elaborate painting of what looked like a desert island. It was surrounded by thick, blue lashes of ocean waves and white speckles of foam.

Personally, she found the display too busy on the eyes. But Mr Donohue seemed like the sort of eccentric, self-believing director that wouldn’t be satisfied with stark minimalism. No. He’d want a set that played alongside his actors, bouncing off them, rather than allowing them the space to showcase their talent. She supposed smaller theatres felt the need to over-compensate.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Donohue.’ Daphne began. ‘Before I start the interview, is there a private room we could sit? Preferably well-lit. For the photographs, of course.’

He nodded his head eagerly and guided them behind the stage and into a bright make-shift dressing room. They sat down on wooden stools whilst an assistant fetched them some hot drinks.

‘As you can see, The Black Cat isn’t too big. We only have the one dressing room, which also doubles as a kitchen.’ He pointed at the sink and ice box fixtures at the far end of the room. ‘But we make do. It’s the people, not the place, that makes a theatre successful. And we’re blessed with so many talented individuals here.’

Daphne smiled in understanding before officially beginning the interview process. But, to Therese, it felt like more of a flowing conversation between two creatives who rode the same wavelength. She assumed that’s what the best journalists did; they made their subjects as relaxed as possible, like the pages of an open book, as they rifled through.

Therese was thankful for it. After all, it made her job of candidly photographing the man considerably easier.

As the two talked, she quietly raised from her chair and worked on photographing the man, particularly trying to capture him during his most passionate exchanges. Her mind wandered freely, engrossed in the task. And time was a flutter of a hummingbird’s wing.

Soon, the four of them were walking back into the main hall. Therese decided she’d get in a few shots of the stage – a set, she had discovered, that had been created for The Black Cat’s interpretation of Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_. She remembered reading it years ago as a child at school, although she could barely remember the plot.

Meanwhile, Daphne and Dannie proceeded to interview a few members of the cast and back stage crew to help them cover all perspectives of the story. Later, they’d go in search for the public’s opinion, too.

Stepping into the aisle nestled in between the auditorium, Therese knelt on the floor and framed her shot upwards. She’d asked the lighting crew to light the stage in a certain way, illuminating outwards to evoke a sense of grandeur. Therese wanted her audience to see that independent theatres still created a big impact, regardless of their budget restraints or size.

But, midway through her work, she was interrupted.

‘Hey, Therese! You’ll never guess who we’ve bumped into!’ Dannie was calling to her from the other side of the hall.

She snapped her final shot and twisted on the spot. Her friend was mid-embrace with a woman. She already knew who it was.

Her heart stopped beating for a moment, but not in a pleasant way. It couldn’t be her, could it? What were the chances of running into her here?

The woman turned to face her, a smile gracing her youthful face, and Therese wished she could somehow master the ability to render herself invisible.

‘Therese!’ The woman exclaimed, walking over to her. ‘You’re like an elusive animal. Where have you been?’

It was Genevieve Cantrell. The woman she had briefly flirted with after meeting Carol at The Ritz.

In the whirlwind of the last few weeks she’d forgotten all about their encounter. Even on the night in question, she’d vigorously washed off Genevieve’s phone number from her hand, feeling nothing except everything that she felt for Carol. Carol had flooded her mind, vacating Genevieve completely. There wasn’t room for anyone else.

Before she could muster the courage to speak, the woman had enveloped her in a tight hug. She kept her hands firmly on her shoulders as she pulled away, searching Therese’s face almost intrusively.

‘It’s been weeks and you still haven’t called.’ Genevieve smirked, but her voice was tinged with hurt.

‘Sorry, yes… I…’ Therese stuttered. ‘The number must have rubbed off.’

‘Well, give me your hand and I’ll write it down again, hm?’

Therese held her mouth open slightly, shock registering in her eyes.

‘What brings you here, anyhow?’ She quickly interjected, hoping the change of subject would take.

Genevieve offered her a quizzical smile, clearly amused by her awkward nature, but followed her lead.  

‘Didn’t you know? I’m an actress. Donohue has cast me as Miranda… Although I can’t say I relate to her inherent dutifulness to men. It’s terribly old-fashioned, but I suppose I can’t blame the writings of a man who’s been dead for centuries.’ She gave Therese a quick wink before relaying a few out-of-context lines humourously.

_‘Tis far off,_  
And rather like a dream than an assurance   
That my remembrance warrants.’

Therese couldn’t help but wonder if she was referring to their playful conversation at Phil’s party. Had it really happened at all? Perhaps it _had_ been a dream. But, even so, it wasn’t one Therese was keen on remembering. After all, there had been no promise of a relationship between them, had there?

The two women fell silent and shared a puzzled glance.

Before long, it was abruptly interrupted by Dannie’s demanding presence. He tapped Therese on the shoulder before slinging his arm around her.

‘Say, I was saying to Gen, we should arrange something soon. Get the team back together, you know?’  

He meant well. But Therese silently prayed he’d leave the invitation open and make no further cemented plans.

‘You’re on, Dannie boy. Let’s say this Saturday evening? At yours?’ Genevieve suggested.

Dannie nodded in agreement before looking at Therese for confirmation. She allowed herself a moment for her brain to catch up.

_Saturday_. Rindy was coming over for a visit on Saturday.

Relief washed over her and any tension she had felt left her body. She had an excuse – a viable one – and so she _couldn’t_ attend.

‘Sorry, I’ve got plans on Saturday.’ Therese said confidently, almost proud that it wasn’t a lie. She gave them both a sympathetic look.

‘Well… Friday evening, then?’ Dannie requested.

Their eyes bore into her, wearing her down. She let out a quiet, defeated sigh and mustered a smile.

‘All right, then. Friday.’

‘Friday it is!’ Genevieve said excitedly. ‘But, until then, I’ve got to get back to rehearsals. Our first show starts in a couple of hours and I’ve got to help our dear old Caliban look ugly enough for the audience.’

The woman gave Dannie and Therese a final hug goodbye before jogging up the stage and behind the curtains. Therese relaxed, her grip loosening on her camera. She offered Dannie a polite smile, but he could see through it.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. I just… I think she’s fond of me, is all.’ She said quietly.

‘Gen? Well, duh. She’s fond of everybody, Therese. That’s why we’re friends.’

He hadn’t understood what she meant, and she didn’t have the energy to try and explain it. Anyway, she thought, was it even appropriate to ‘out’ someone as being homosexual? Even if the person you were discussing it with was liberal and kindhearted? Therese couldn’t be sure, but the thought sat uncomfortably within her. It was a private matter. One’s sexuality belonged to themselves, she decided. And if Genevieve wanted Dannie to know, she’d tell him in her own time and in her own way.

The two got back to work shortly afterwards, interviewing and photographing a couple more theatre-goers and crew members. Once they’d completed their allocated tasks, and after a quick debrief with Daphne, they decided they had enough to go on.

On the drive back to The Times, Therese’s mind ran a reel of the day’s events. Most of all, she wondered whether she should have told Carol about the moment at Phil’s party. She hadn’t kissed Genevieve, or even said anything overtly romantic, and yet it felt as if she had betrayed her lover. Perhaps it was the fact that she still hadn’t given Genevieve any firm indication that she _wasn’t_ interested, Therese pondered. Or, maybe, it was because even the _thought_ of being with someone other than Carol, even during their time apart, was upsetting.

She didn’t want Genevieve then, and she didn’t want Genevieve now. But, she decided fervently, she would still tell Carol later on. She’d explain the situation and discuss Friday evening’s plans. And everything would work itself out because they loved each other.

*****************************

Once the photos had dried out, she bundled them up and carried them to Martin Foxe’s office directly. He had specifically asked her to show him first – and only him – seeing as it was her first assignment.

After entering through his office door, he greeted her kindly and cleaned away the items on his desk, ready for her to display her day’s work. Thankfully, he’d trusted her to develop her favourites for him to choose from, rather than force them both to scrutinise the entire film under a magnifying glass.

Therese spread ten individual prints out for Martin to survey and then stood back, giving him space to gather his thoughts. She waited in excruciating silence, chewing her lip in nervousness.

The second hand on Martin’s wall clock seemed to slow as she studied his empty expressions.

‘Huh. You know what, Belivet? These actually aren’t half bad.’ He said, keeping his eyes on the photographs. ‘This one – here - nice work with the space and lighting. The way you elevated the stage is magnificent. And these portraits of what’s-his-face – ah, yes, Donohue – are not bad, either.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Don’t get me wrong, you need more field practice. But it’s a very promising start.’

She could only smile in response, her stomach tumbling with excitement and pride. Martin’s face, however, remained typically inanimate. After a few moments, he gathered the photos up once more and stepped out of his seat to meet her.

‘This,’ he said, waving the prints in his hand, ‘is the kind of fresh perspective we need. I’ll run them past the rest of the department tomorrow during the briefing. Hopefully we’ll come to a decision quickly.’

Martin handed her back the photos and told her to place them in the meeting room in preparation for the next morning. She nodded readily and began to make her exit. But something stopped her.

Therese wanted more than praise: she wanted a promise.

It wasn’t enough to get a taste of one assignment and risk having it be her last, especially when she knew that she’d exceeded his expectations.

‘One more thing, if that’s okay.’ She said. ‘Does this mean you’ll be assigning me more projects? I’m willing to take whatever you’ve got.’

He looked at her calculatingly, his face still as blank as a canvas. Although she thought she saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

‘Yes. Now off with you, I have a few things I need to finish up.’

************************************************

Therese curled her legs up underneath her on the sofa as she nestled against Carol, relaxing into her comforting embrace. The woman’s arm was draped across her shoulders, holding her firmly by the arm, and she kissed Therese’s hairline repeatedly. Excitedly.

‘I’m so proud of you, darling.’ She beamed. ‘When will the piece be published?’

Therese blushed in mild embarrassment. It wasn’t as much of a big deal as Carol made it sound, but she was pleased that her partner was so interested and supportive. It was the sort of motivation she never knew she needed. In fact, without Carol’s belief in her from the beginning, she doubted she would have persevered.

‘Thursday, with any luck. It depends on when Daphne finalises the article.’

‘Well, I’ll be the first to buy a copy. You must promise me you’ll sign your autograph on it.’

At this, she slapped Carol’s leg playfully in mock-annoyance. It made the woman laugh and gather Therese closer, leaning in to kiss her mouth lingeringly. Her blonde hair fell in front of the younger woman’s face, tickling her eyelashes, and Therese couldn’t help but smile. Living with Carol – being wrapped up in the small, tender moments – was her oasis. And she felt so blessed.

‘And how is Dannie?’ Carol asked casually, shifting backwards into the arm of the sofa.

‘Dannie’s well. He was really in his element today.’ Therese responded, remembering the man’s boyish enthusiasm throughout their excursion. ‘He’s invited me to his place this Friday evening for a party, actually.’

She regretted saying it immediately.

It wasn’t that Carol would be disappointed or unwilling for her to go. In fact, the older woman had always been overtly encouraging of Therese’s friendships and relationships outside of their own, continuously pushing her to step outside of her comfort zone.

No. The problem was, she had remembered _who_ would be at the party. And she realised that Carol didn’t know. She knew nothing of the actress and her intentions, or the way Genevieve had winked at Therese in a similar, yet entirely different, way to how she always did.

Therese jumped back into the conversation quickly before Carol had a chance to reply.

‘I… Uh. Wanted to talk to you about something… to do with that.’ She said sombrely, tripping over her words.

Carol’s mouth fell slightly, and her eyes became hooded with a heaviness that made Therese want to take back the gravity laced between her words. Despite her sudden dampened mood, however, the older woman nodded gently and squeezed Therese’s hand.

It was all the encouragement Therese needed.

‘A few weeks ago, after we met at The Ritz, I met a girl and she – well, we – talked.’ She paused for a moment to observe Carol’s reaction, but the woman merely stared at her. A wall was emerging in her blue-grey eyes, blocking her out. ‘I think she’s like me. Us.’

‘I see.’

Carol’s lips twitched, and her hand went limp on Therese’s.

‘She wrote her number on my hand, but I scrubbed it off before I went to find you.’ Therese said softly. ‘Anyway, I met her again today, at The Black Cat – she’s an actress - and-’

‘And I suppose you’ve changed your mind, now?’

‘What?’

The older woman’s hand withdrew entirely now. She jerked her body away so it was no longer turned towards Therese and reached across the table to find a cigarette. After lighting it, she remained hunched over, her elbows on her knees, and took a deep drag.

‘About this.’ Carol waved her hand at nothing in particular. She looked defeated.

The brunette’s eyes widened in realisation. That’s not what she had meant at all.

‘No, Carol, I-’ Her heart was thumping wildly now. Couldn’t the woman see how much she meant to her? Did the conversations they’d had over the past couple of weeks mean nothing at all? Therese had so much to say, but most of it had already been said before, hadn’t it? It now felt like it was seeping out of her hands again, lost within a void.

She was desperate to blurt her words out as hastily as she could to cut the confusion short, but Carol was stuck on her train of thought. And she wouldn’t give her an opening.

‘It shouldn’t surprise me. I’m older, I have a child and a tiresome ex-husband. How could you possibly envision a future with me?’

‘ _Carol_.’ Therese exclaimed loudly, and it echoed around the room. She placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder and twisted her around lightly. Her lover’s eyes were clouded over, as grey as a storm cloud, and brimming with the beginnings of tears.

‘I love _you_.’

She kissed Carol with unexpected force. ‘You _know_ I want you. You know I want this life… Now would you let me finish?’

Carol collected herself slightly and stayed silent.

‘I met her at The Black Cat. She’s coming to Dannie’s party and I suppose I just… wanted you to know that she’d be there. I don’t want her, I don’t love her. In fact, I barely even _know_ her.’ She was rambling almost incoherently now, worried that Carol might interrupt her again. ‘I’ll tell her about you when I see her then, I just haven’t had the chance.’

She released a long breath and dared to glance at her lover, her eyebrows raised upwards, apologetically. ‘All right?’ She asked finally, when Carol hadn’t responded.

There was a beat of silence before the blonde woman spoke again.

‘And… you didn’t kiss her?’

‘No. I’ve never touched her. It would feel wrong.’

Carol laughed slightly, resting a hand across her face to hide her flushed cheeks.

‘I feel foolish.’ She took another drag of her cigarette to avoid Therese’s gaze.

‘Don’t.’

‘And you say this party’s on Friday evening?’  

‘Yes. At Dannie and Phil’s.’ Therese said, drawing out her words cautiously.

‘Well then, invite me along.’

The brunette hesitated, her forehead creasing in confusion. Did Carol really want to attend? After all, Dannie and his friends weren’t exactly her crowd. Although she knew the woman would be the perfect socialite, she was almost certain she’d have a terrible time. And Therese didn’t want her partner to feel obliged to attend.

That being said, the thought of turning up to a party together, even in secret, filled her with a sense of gratification. Therese _wanted_ people to know that she belonged to this woman in some capacity. She wanted them to know that they’d always be together.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’ Carol smiled, looking brighter than she had done before. She brushed a hand across Therese’s cheek.

‘What makes you want to come?’ Therese asked.

‘You.’ The woman paused for a moment. ‘And, I suppose, I don’t want to give Genevieve the opportunity to make a pass at you.’

Carol moved in closer, her lips descending on Therese’s neck possessively. The brunette released a soft, breathy moan.

‘No one could ever make me feel how you do, Carol.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was DESPERATE to mention Genevieve.
> 
> Also, there's a moment in TPOS where Abby invites Therese to a party with some ~theatre contacts. And when Therese tells Carol about it, and mentions that there'd be an ~actress there, Carol gets a little bit upset. I've always wondered if the actress in question is/was Genevieve? Who knows. That's my canon, anyway. (Although, suffice to say, I haven't followed it in this.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know if you did, or didn't, or you feel somewhere in between.


	10. Chapter ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, hello!
> 
> life has been hectic this week. i've been working overtime, dealing with illness and stress etc. it hasn't been very pleasant. but! i managed to get the brunt of this written yesterday evening. just finished it now on my lunch break and gave it a quick edit. hopefully it reads all right.

‘Zip me up, will you?’ Carol called out, surveying herself in front of a full-length mirror.

Therese dutifully rushed out of the bedroom and stood directly behind her. Without speaking, she carefully pulled the metal zip upwards, paying close attention to the soft curves and strong muscles of her lover’s back as she went. Once finished, she placed both hands on Carol’s hips and leaned her chin on top of her shoulder, breathing in deeply. The woman’s perfume filled her senses, rushing through her like morphine. Therese suddenly felt privileged that she was able to stand this close to a person who had once seemed so distant, cold and unattainable.  

It made her drowsy.

‘You know you don’t have to make such an effort, right? It’s just a small get together.’ Therese murmured, now admiring Carol’s pearl necklace, delicately sitting atop a shimmering blue dress that hugged her figure impossibly well.

Carol reached for a deep red shade of lipstick: her signature colour. ‘Of course I do, darling, they’re your friends. I want them to like me as much as they like you.’ She smiled and held Therese’s gaze in the mirror for a moment. Her face seemed so open and glowing – a light that pulled her in.

Therese thought it was funny, really, how a woman like Carol could ever worry about being _un_ likable. She oozed grace and charm in every situation, no matter who she was with or where, no matter how she felt on the inside. Carol was strong like that. She controlled the atmosphere, always, like the world was weightless in her hands.

‘Well, you look wonderful.’ Therese said with finality.

But it felt like an understatement. The older woman’s beauty always seemed to linger and fizzle on Therese’s tongue, dousing itself like gasoline inside of her, but she could never find the right words to describe it.

‘Do you think Genevieve will think so?’

Therese rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t bite back the laugh that escaped her throat. ‘How many times must we talk about this?’ She closed her arms around Carol just to feel closer. ‘It’ll be fine. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.’

Their gaze met through the mirror once more, and Therese could see a hint of a challenge brewing in Carol’s eyes.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’ The blonde mumbled, proceeding to look away and powder her cheeks and nose, her face the picture of indifference.

‘Oh, you’re infuriating, Carol.’ Therese said, but she was smiling broadly.

‘Whatever you say, darling.’

They stood there for a moment, enjoying each other’s quiet company, until the blonde woman’s hand froze in mid-air as if she were trying to piece together a thought. Her face flashed with an emotion Therese hadn’t seen her wear before, and she opened her mouth to say something.

‘I’d be interested to talk to her and see if, perhaps, we could-’

‘Could what?’ Therese asked, cutting her short. Her eyebrows were raised, quirking slightly in amusement.

Carol turned around. ‘Tell her you’re mine.’

Therese’s face rushed with a surge of warmth that only deepened when the blonde woman stroked her cheek with the back of her fingers. _She belonged to Carol_.

‘Belong’ had always seemed such a possessive, ugly word to Therese. But before Carol, she’d only ever known the word in an ugly way. Richard had wanted her to belong to him, to marry him, despite her numerous objections. Frankenburg’s had wanted Therese to sell her soul and belong to the company for precious decades of her life. The world wanted her to belong into a perfect box, following a set narrative – and a heterosexual one, at that.

The thought of being the property of anyone or anything filled her with anger. It made her feel like a caged animal.

But Carol. Oh, with Carol it was different because it was a different kind of belonging. It was mutual. And it wasn’t a product of possessiveness, or selfishness, or blind trust. It was love. And it was a painful sort of love that took work, and drive, and throwing away everything Therese had ever known. But, somehow, that made it all the sweeter.

She belonged to Carol, and Carol belonged to her.

In one swift movement, she raised herself up on her toes and kissed her lover, smiling all the while.

‘Yes, I’m yours.’ Therese kissed her once more, running her hands through her blonde hair carefully. ‘And you’re mine.’

‘I am.’ Carol hummed.

‘But… So long as we know that, it’s really no one else’s concern.’

‘Yes, darling, you’re right.’ Carol nodded, sighing. ‘But if she touches you-’

Therese interrupted her with another kiss.

********************************

The windows of the house were illuminating out onto the dark street. Looking up, Therese could see silhouettes of guests already gathering in groups to share cigarettes or have a breath of fresh air, gently swaying to the sound of a distant record.

The couple stood by the front door, painfully aware of the inches separating them. How nice it would be to turn up to a party together and show it, hand-in-hand, Therese thought. Almost instinctively, she stretched out her index finger to loop around Carol’s little finger. It was contact, at least, no matter how fleeting it was.

‘There they are!’ Dannie yelled, throwing the door open. He held a beer in one hand, and Therese was certain it wasn’t his first of the night.

Their hands fell apart. And she felt a small pang of self-consciousness, noting how lively and out-of-sorts the event was for Carol. But one quick look at the woman next to her, and she was sure it would be okay.

In fact, Carol was the first to step up into the entrance, giving Dannie a light squeeze on the arm. ‘Dannie, how lovely to see you again.’ She said warmly. ‘Congratulations on your work towards the article. I enjoyed it very much.’

At this, he dipped his head in embarrassment. Although Therese could see, under the locks of hair falling across his forehead, he looked grateful for the compliment.

‘Thanks, but it was all Daphne and Therese. Really, you must be proud of her.’

Carol looked towards the brunette now, her eyes lighting up in a way that was reserved for her only. ‘I am.’ And Therese forgot how to breathe for a moment, floating, lost, in the gravity of her words.

‘Right, c’mon! Both of you get inside and I’ll grab you a couple beers – everyone’s waiting!’ Dannie said excitedly, running back inside the house.

They entered together and found themselves greeted almost instantly by Phil, Dannie’s older brother. He gave them both a quick smile and introduced himself to Carol, taking her coat and hanging it on a wooden coat rack. The man only looked half-enthused, but Therese knew that that was only his typical demeanour – realistic, almost pessimistic, and sarcastic at the best of times. But, somehow, Carol had managed to crack his hardy exterior by discussing the various items of décor around his house. Strangely, he opened up almost instantly, talking about his father’s passed-down interest in woodwork before decidedly taking the woman on a tour around the house, placing a cold beer in her hand as she went.

Therese now stood alone, bewildered by how quickly and seamlessly the relationship between the two had blossomed. Although it made her feel conscious of how inferior her own social abilities seemed in comparison, she didn’t mind. There was something inherently satisfying about knowing one’s partner was likeable. Lovable, even.

She made her way through to the living room where a handful of men and woman she somewhat recognised lounged about on sofas and leaned against walls, deep in conversation. Therese spotted Dannie and Louise, his girlfriend, and waved a timid hello. They beckoned her over.

‘You must be Therese.’ Louise began, offering her hand to Therese’s. ‘I’m Louise.’ She smiled broadly, her long pale blonde hair framing her face.

‘It’s so nice to finally meet you properly. Dannie never shuts up about you at work, actually.’ Therese replied, shooting a smirk at Dannie who now slunk back into the sofa, his head in his hands.

The two women spoke for a brief time, conversing animatedly about their careers. As it turned out, Louise was just as enthusiastic about film and literature as Dannie. The girl worked as a secretary at a New York film production company. Much like Therese, she spent the majority of her time taking notes and running errands for the executives within the company, but it was her dream to have a more hands-on role in the screenwriting process. At the mention of Therese’s new assistant photographer role, however, she perked up. Her progress served as some hope, she supposed, and that in itself gave her the drive to keep pushing for more opportunities.

As they chatted away, Dannie looked on fondly, his arm draped across his girlfriend’s shoulder.

‘Say, Therese, where’s your gal?’ He asked, searching around the room with his eyes.

Therese’s eyes widened in slight panic at the forward question. She glanced quickly at Louise, opening her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t figure out what. Carol _was_ hers, but not everyone knew that. And it certainly wasn’t something she was comfortable being said out loud in front of a group of relative strangers.

‘ _Dannie_.’ Louise pressed quietly. ‘Sorry, Therese. He has an unreasonably loud voice, especially when he’s been drinking. Don’t you, sweetheart?’ The girl nudged him in the side lightly and shot him a telling look.

She turned back to Therese, sympathy radiating from her gentle, kind face. And the brunette suddenly realised that she knew. Dannie had told her about Carol at some point or another. But she didn’t have the time or strength to worry about that now. The girl was clearly supportive, it seemed, and she doubted she’d open her mouth to anyone else.

‘My brother- ’ The girl started, hesitating slightly. ‘He lives with a man over in Greenwich Village. And they share the flat with two women. Our parents think he’s courting one of them.’ She laughed slightly, taking a sip of red wine. ‘It’s probably best they think that, I guess… But I think their relationship is beautiful.’

Louise grabbed Therese’s hand lightly and squeezed, and the brunette could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. ‘Love is beautiful, isn’t it?’ She murmured more to herself. The words came from within.

As if on cue, Carol entered the room, two beers in hand.

‘Phil’s very charming. And I just had a wonderful conversation with Jack – wasn’t he the fellow we met in The Oak Room?’ She sat down on the sofa, dangerously close to her, their thighs touching.

When she handed Therese a bottle, she made a point of letting their fingers brush ever so slightly, causing a shiver to spark up the brunette’s arm.

Therese filled her in on the conversation she’d been having with Louise, making a point of proudly discussing Carol’s role as a buyer at Derek Cartwright’s furniture store. As the alcohol flowed freely, the four of them loosened up, comfortably talking to one another as if they’d always been intimate friends. And Therese couldn’t help but feel the warmth of knowing that these few friends knew her completely. She could be as open as she liked now, she knew. And they’d love her for it regardless.

A loud cheer suddenly echoed around the house, startling them all. Ever the host, Dannie obediently jumped off the sofa and ran to the front door, greeting the newly arrived guest. The brunette held her breath, sensing who it was before she even had a chance to show her face. She could hear the faint shrill of her laugh, seeping into the living room from the hallway.

Trying not to alarm Carol, she kept her expression as neutral as possible, focusing on finishing her beer instead. But her head was already swimming with the beginnings of tipsiness, and it was difficult to follow her brain’s instructions. She flushed a bright pink out of nervousness.

‘I’m going to grab another beer. Do either of you want anything?’ Therese asked, rising from her position. Carol gave her an incredulous look for a moment before nodding and pointing to her almost-empty bottle. Louise, on the other hand, shook her head. She already had a bottle of wine sitting next to her feet on the floor.

The brunette made her way to the empty kitchen, suddenly relieved to be alone. The thought of seeing Genevieve, or perhaps witnessing a conflict between her and Carol, was giving her a dreaded sense of anxiety. She’d rather the woman hadn’t showed up at all.

After shutting the door, she walked over to a window above the sink and opened it a crack. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and let the wind breeze against her face, cooling her down.

The door opened.

‘I thought I saw you walk in here. Anyone might think you’re hiding.’

It was Genevieve.

‘Uh… Yes. And no… I just came in to grab some more beers, actually.’ She stuttered, cursing herself for choosing to hide out in the open, rather than blend in with the crowd. Now she was alone with the one person she didn’t want to see. And Genevieve was stood by the door, blocking her in.

‘Are you sure?’ The woman asked, tilting her head to one side. ‘You know Dan and Phil don’t keep their beer outside, right?’

Therese gave her a polite smile. ‘You got me.’

Closing the window, she stepped over to the ice box, opening it and pulling out two bottles. Before she had a chance to place them on the counter and crack them open, however, Genevieve had slyly taken one from her hand. The woman slunk to her side and in one, quick movement hit the top of the bottle against the edge of the kitchen table using the heel of her hand. The bottle cap came flying off.

‘Aren’t you impressed?’ Genevieve asked, winking, before lifting herself up to sit on the table. She tilted her head back to take a large gulp. ‘Learned that trick from my first – and only – boyfriend.’

Therese nodded, but stayed silent, unsure of what else to say.

‘Nice work on those photographs, by the way. Donohue was very impressed with the article.’ The woman continued.

‘Thank you, I’m glad.’

Noticing her awkwardness, Genevieve took another swig of beer before placing it down next to her.

‘You’re an odd girl, you know? You only talk when it’s absolutely necessary. I like it, it’s refreshing.’

Her words felt like a cheap imitation of what Carol had said to her all those months ago in December.

_What a strange girl you are. Flung out of space._

‘I suppose I’m just shy.’

‘Well, you needn’t be. I think you’re very charming.’

Genevieve slid off the counter slowly and stood close to Therese, domineering. The younger woman turned away slightly, her cheeks burning, panic beginning to bubble beneath her skin. She felt suffocated, cornered like prey. And yet her feet wouldn’t budge. It was like she was glued to the floor.

She could feel the woman closing in on her, her breath tickling Therese’s ear. It made her shiver, but in an uncomfortable sort of way. ‘And very beautiful, too.’ Genevieve whispered.

There was a light knock at the kitchen door and Genevieve jumped backwards in shock. Therese let out a breath she had no recollection of holding, silently thanking whoever it was for disturbing them.

Carol poked her head around the door. ‘What on earth has been taking you so-’

Her words drifted off when she noticed the young brunette stranger standing next to her. Therese could see her jaw clench and her eyes darken. Silently entering the room, she straightened up her back and closed the kitchen door once again. When she turned around, the blonde woman had a smile plastered across her face, but it wasn’t reaching her eyes.

Therese looked at her, pleadingly, hoping that Carol knew she hadn’t done anything with the woman. But Carol only looked at her with adoration and understanding, a severe need to protect her. Perhaps she had noticed how uncomfortable she had looked, Therese wondered.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Carol.’

They shook hands. And Therese noticed the strong flex of Carol’s hand muscles.

‘I’m Genevieve. Are you a friend of Therese’s?’

‘Something like that.’ Carol’s eyes bore into the woman’s, challenging her. ‘Therese, should we make our way back?’

Therese nodded, taking a step forward. But Genevieve gently placed a hand on her elbow, holding her back. The air between the three of them felt as thick as gas. Any more friction, she knew, and the room would explode.

‘Actually, we were just having a private conversation, if that’s all right. I’m sure she’ll be out in a moment.’ Her hand was still on her arm, rubbing circles with her thumb. Therese wished it was Carol’s.

‘I see.’

The room fell silent again. Carol’s hands balled into fists, but her face remained calm. Therese desperately wanted to say something – anything – but she felt trapped between two forces larger than herself. It was as if the pressure had closed off her throat entirely.

‘Do you think you could leave us for a time?’ Genevieve offered. But, Therese noted, it was spoken rather politely. The woman didn’t know, after all, that she was taken by another.

Carol let out a breathy laugh.

‘How bold. And I suppose you think Therese is interested. In you, I mean.’

‘And why is that any of your business?’ Genevieve demanded, loudly, staring the older woman down.

There it was: the spark. The room suddenly seemed to heave and flow with a heat that Therese knew would only grow hotter and hotter until someone intervened. Not wanting the conflict to escalate, she opened her mouth to speak.

But Carol’s lips had descended upon hers, desperately and possessively, as she pushed her lightly against the counter top with her hips. Therese moaned in surprise.

It was a kiss that wasn’t up for interpretation. Her mouth moved slowly, but hard, leaving Therese completely breathless. And, suddenly, she realised, the heat in the room was coming from within her instead. She lost herself in the exchange, biting back, and almost forgot Genevieve was stood before them.

When they broke apart – Therese weakly holding herself up with two hands on the surface of the table – Carol turned to look a stunned Genevieve in the eye confidently.

‘Feel free to continue that private conversation.’

And then she was gone.

‘I… um… we’re together.’ Therese blurted out quietly, trying to compose herself.

But she didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she ran out of the room in search of Carol. Always in search of Carol.

**************************

She found her outside the back of the house, leaning against the cold brick wall, smoking a cigarette in the dark. Therese took her place next to her, a couple of inches apart.

‘I thought you’d gone home.’ Therese said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

‘No, darling. I just needed to cool down.’ Carol placed a hand on hers, briefly, for added reassurance.

They stood for a while in silence, listening to muted conversations and laughter through the wall of the building. Therese enjoyed the invisibility she felt in the darkness.

‘You didn’t have to kiss me like that.’ She started, her voice steady. ‘What if she told someone? Or somebody walked in on us?’

Carol took another drag of her cigarette in silence, blowing a stream of smoke upwards. It drifted freely into the night sky. She kept her head upwards and looked at the stars, thinking.

‘She won’t tell anyone.’

‘But what if she does?’ Therese asked again, worriedly. ‘I don’t want to lose you for a second time.’

The older woman sighed and looked at her, lifting a hand up to caress her cheek. Therese could make out the blue-grey of her eyes, illuminated like jewels by the moonlight. ‘You won’t. I promise.’

‘Well, don’t do something like that again. Just in case.’

Her lover chuckled, throwing the remains of her cigarette to the ground, before leaning in close, inches away from her ear.

‘Stop pretending. I know you liked it, darling.’ She whispered.

‘No I didn’t.’ The brunette protested, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. ‘What makes you think that?’

Carol was leaning across Therese now, her fingers tracing lightly over her collarbone. ‘Don’t you think I know you well enough now to recognise when you’re aroused?’

Therese’s cheeks flared with a mixture of embarrassment and mortification. She knew, deep down, it was because her lover was right. But the lack of control over her own body was something that made her feel awkward and she felt the need to deny it.

‘Well I wasn’t.’ She said defensively, focusing her attention on anything but Carol’s intense gaze.

Without warning, Carol had slipped one hand beneath the waistband of Therese’s skirt. The younger woman gasped as her hand moved slowly downwards, below her underwear and –

Carol hummed, satisfied, when she felt the woman’s wet centre. She swiped her finger once, teasingly, before removing her hand altogether.

‘Well, we had better do something about that.’ She murmured huskily before kissing Therese fervently.

‘I love you,’ Therese said breathlessly, unsure of what else there was to say. Her knees wobbled slightly, and her eyelids felt heavy with lust.

‘I know, darling. Now let’s please go home. Or kissing won’t be the only thing I do to you publicly.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, i'm so helplessly gay. 
> 
> anyway, let me know what you all thought! i love reading your comments.
> 
> now i'm off to.... continue working.... before i spend the weekend doing christmassy things. :) i hope you're all well.


	11. Chapter eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, can you believe I'm partially drunk on wine whilst finishing this chapter. 
> 
> I'm so sorry if it makes absolutely no sense. I never learn.

 

After the heated mirage of a night they had shared, the morning seemed to drift by like a snow storm: a flurry of movement and heightened panic. And Therese could only sit still, silently, and witness the madness unfold before her eyes.

She had never seen a person rush about quite so quickly and chaotically. It was something she wasn’t expecting from Carol, a woman who had always been so organised, with a strong sense of clarity and direction. There was always a plan of action followed by a perfect execution. But, throw a visit from her daughter and her ex-husband into the mix and everything descended into disarray. Now, the woman was adamant on everything being as perfect as it could be, for the sake of pleasing Rindy and ensuring future visitations.

The brunette had tried to offer help with the tidying and food preparations, but Carol had only snapped, telling her to preoccupy herself with something else. It had stung, of course, as Carol’s unpredictable moods always did, but Therese did her best to give her lover the space she needed to process the situation.

So, after resigning herself to keeping out of the way, Therese retreated to their bedroom. Curling up in an armchair, she picked up a copy of _Nightwood_ by Djuna Barnes and settled down to read in silence. But the words on the page seemed to swirl in and out of focus – always out of grasp – and her eyes simply couldn’t keep up. Distracting herself was useless.  

Rindy was coming to visit. _Today_. And that was all that mattered.

A nervous excitement ate away at her insides, unlike anything she had ever felt before. She couldn’t wait to see the girl, but the unpredictability of it all was terrifying. What if Rindy disliked her? And, if she did, how would Carol feel about that? What was one even meant to talk about with a young child? Therese hadn’t had much experience with children since she was a child herself, and it made her feel awkward and out of touch. Could she really expect to effortlessly fit into the girl’s life as she wished?

Worse than that, however, was the anticipation of Harge. In her mind, she could clearly see the man thundering into Carol’s flat like a pent-up rhino, stomping his feet and breathing deeply, his shoulders wide and braced for a fight. Therese, by comparison, was timid, much like a doe. She hated confrontation and most likely couldn’t protect Carol – or Rindy, for that matter – if the situation called for it. And that scared her.

Therese snapped her book shut and placed it on the small coffee table to her right. Worrying was doing her no good, but sitting around waiting was no better.

She made her way to the kitchen, quietly, to fetch herself some toast. Staying out of Carol’s way had meant she hadn’t eaten yet, and she was starved. But as she scraped butter lavishly onto two slices, she heard Carol call her from Rindy’s room.

‘Therese, could you come here for a moment?’

Cautiously, she made her way to the doorway and leaned against the white, wooden frame, toast in hand. She took a bite as she watched Carol organise and reorganise stuffed animals and small décor cushions on Rindy’s bed. Therese hadn’t the heart to tell the woman that her daughter most likely wouldn’t be able to stay overnight with them any time in the near future. But she supposed Carol already knew that, deep down. The mother just wanted her daughter to know that she thought of her and loved her, still, so much. That she had another place to call home.

‘I was thinking, perhaps you might like to take some photos of Rindy and myself? When she arrives later on.’ She still wasn’t looking at her. ‘I don’t have many and… I doubt Harge’s mother has displayed any photographs of me around their house.’

Carol laughed in spite of herself and stood stationary. She looked at Therese now. ‘Would you?’

Therese swallowed a mouthful of toast, smiling. ‘Yes. I’d love to… I don’t know what Harge will think about that, though.’

‘I don’t care what Harge thinks.’ Carol snapped, her eyes darkening.

‘I just don’t want to step out of line.’

‘But I’m her mother and I asked you to.’ The woman focused her attention back on organising the room. ‘For crying out loud, Therese, don’t side with him over me.’

‘Sorry, I-’ Therese sighed, feeling defeated. She wished she could be standing in front of the carefree, loving Carol from last night. ‘I’ll go prep my camera.’

Now sat in the living room, she got to work on cleaning her lenses and taking a few test shots of the apartment, for the sake of anticipating the lighting and exposure requirements. She knelt on the floor to frame a shot of a turquoise coloured vase, filled with violets. It still felt odd, even now, looking through the camera Carol had gifted to her. Somehow it made every photograph she took better. It always felt like Carol was looking with her, sharing the moment.

As she went to snap another photograph, this time of a stack of newspapers and a cup of coffee, she saw Carol enter the frame. The older woman sat down next to her, crossing her legs on the sofa. Biting her lip, Therese pointed her camera to her, focusing on her face that looked apprehensive, apologetic and nervous all at once. Noticing her change of subject, Carol quickly covered her face with one hand, hiding a small smile.

Therese motioned for her to take it away and then snapped a quick, sincere shot of Carol laughing slightly, embarrassed. It would be one for the wall, the brunette decided.

She turned her camera off and set it down carefully on the floor.

‘I’m dreadful to you, aren’t I?’ Carol said solemnly.

‘That’s not true.’

The woman gave her a pointed, knowing look.

‘All right, sometimes. But not always.’

Carol smiled sadly, nodding her head. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Will you forgive me?’

Therese shuffled across the floor and lay her head against Carol’s knees. She nodded slightly in response to the question and heard her lover release a sigh of relief in recognition.

‘I understand, you know? I know why you’re stressed and nervous and snapping at me. Just… you can talk about it, if you want. I’m always here for you.’

‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ Carol asked, trailing her fingers through Therese’s hair. ‘You’re an angel to me.’

Therese shifted back and lifted her head so she could look the older woman in the eyes, smiling. ‘I am, aren’t I?’

************************************

Carol had spent the last eighty minutes pacing the apartment, wordlessly, nervously biting her fingernails. As the time ticked by, the likelihood of the man showing up with her daughter became less and less likely, but, still, they waited and hoped.

So, when the buzzer rang, both women jumped in shock. It _was_ Harge, and he was over an hour late.

The blonde woman buzzed him in without saying a word and waited by the door, tapping her foot almost impulsively. Impatiently.

But, when the door flew open and she saw Rindy cradled in her father’s arms, her steely exterior crumbled. The annoyance of his late timing faded away completely. A smile burst across her face, her eyes shone with happy tears, and her arms outstretched to hug the young girl, pulling her out of Harge’s arms without so much as looking at him. She spun Rindy around, holding her close, and her face radiated with love as the girl laughed along.

It was motherly love, Therese knew. And her heart tightened like a bow.

‘I’ve missed you, Mommy!’ The girl exclaimed, wriggling to get out of her mother’s grasp now. Carol placed her down on the floor and kneeled beside her. She straightened out her daughter’s camel coloured jacket, before cupping two hands on her rosy cheeks, pinching lightly.

‘Oh, sweetheart, not as much as I’ve missed you!’

She peppered one cheek with kisses until Rindy wiped them away, making an exaggerated noise of disgust. Carol laughed again, licking her thumb and then rubbing off the lipstick marks on her daughter’s cheek.

‘My, how you’ve grown. You’re almost as tall as me.’

‘Don’t be silly, Mommy.’ Rindy giggled, kicking off her shoes and charging towards Carol for another hug.

‘Oh, all right then.’

Lost in the exchange, she forgot about Hargess stood in the doorway. The man didn’t look pleased to be there. Even the happiness of his daughter did nothing to wipe the grimace on his face.

Carol’s smile dropped from her lips as she rose from the floor, brushing her knees.

‘You better come in.’ She smiled. And Therese could see, even from the other side of the apartment, that it was forced.

The man huffed and stepped inside, shifting off his coat and throwing it on a small stool in the hallway. Then, he closed the door loudly.

‘Lost track of time.’ He muttered, not meeting Carol’s eyes. ‘We can only stay for a couple of hours.’

As he raised his head, however, he caught sight of Therese stood awkwardly in the living room, her hands held together in front of her. The muscles in Harge’s face visibly tensed and he stared for a moment, anger colouring his face purple. Noticing this, Carol quickly placed a hand on her daughter’s back and led her towards the brunette.

‘Do you remember Therese, Rindy?’ Carol asked, all the while giving her lover an affirming, reassuring look.

‘She helped us decorate the Christmas tree.’ Rindy said, creasing her eyebrows in thought. Then, as realisation hit her, her face brightened up. ‘You made those angels! And Mommy kept them as a bookmark!’

‘Yes, I did.’ Therese said, smiling, remembering the string of angels she’d cut out for Carol all those months ago. ‘You’ve got a good memory.’

_‘I’m going to keep these,’ she had said. ‘With twenty-two angels to defend me, I can’t lose.’_

She wondered if Carol still had them to hand, but one look at her lover’s glowing face and she knew she had. With Therese and Rindy, though, she supposed she now had twenty-four angels on her side.

‘How about I teach you how to make some?’ Therese continued, now bending down to meet Rindy at her eye level. ‘I have all sorts of art supplies and coloured card stored away somewhere. Would you like that?’

Harge now forced his way into their space, looming over Therese, casting a shadow on her in the process. Looking up, she could see the restrained rage in his glassy eyes. He placed a hand on Rindy’s shoulder, guiding her away before she could respond to Therese, and led her to a small chair Carol had taken out especially. Then, Harge handed her a colouring book and some crayons, ensuring she was occupied, before turning to face the two women.

With one sharp movement, he jerked his head towards the kitchen before walking inside. The couple followed silently, Carol brushing Therese’s arm lightly as they walked.

‘She came to visit her mother.’ He spat between his teeth, pointing a finger at Carol. ‘Not you.’

Therese shied away slightly, bowing her head. He was right. Rindy had come to see one person, and that person wasn’t her. The child wasn’t a part of her life yet, blood or otherwise, as much as she wanted her to be. And there was nothing she could say to change that or defend herself. Taking another step backwards, she begged with her eyes for Carol to say something instead. Anything that would take away the responsibility – the guilt – she felt in the situation.

‘Harge, we discussed this. We _agreed_ she could be here.’ Carol said, emotion dripping from each word.

He pursed his lips together and breathed heavily from his nose. It was clear his promises were only made in jest. Perhaps he thought Carol had been joking or bluffing, or that they wouldn’t still be together.

‘I want her gone. I don’t want her anywhere near my daughter.’

‘ _Our_ daughter.’

‘Fine. You want a perverted invert near _our_ daughter?’ He was seething, quietly, whilst shooting daggers at Therese. With one hand, he gripped the back of a kitchen chair tightly, shaking it.

His fiery rage was overwhelming; it pulsated off him. And Therese could feel her insides melting away.

‘Don’t you dare, Harge.’ Carol’s voice was distorted with the early stages of tears. Her words sounded thick, as if they had been spoken underwater. ‘Don’t you dare call her that. Or make me feel for one moment that I don’t know what’s best for my child. Therese and I are in love.’

The chair scraped across the floor before Harge lifted it up and threw it back down. He twisted his head sharply so that he didn’t have to look at either of them.

‘Please, understand.’ She said clearly now, strength surging within her. ‘I love her. And that won’t change.’

At this, he laughed incredulously, almost manically. Their relationship was a cruel, vile joke to him and nothing more. And Therese knew he’d never understand, because if the man had ever been in love – truly - he’d accept it. But Harge only loved life’s ideals. He loved anything that made him feel good.

Their love was strong. And for whatever reason that made him feel weak and unsure of himself.

‘What, you’re going to marry her? Run off into the sunset?’ He laughed once more and then fell quiet as he regulated his breathing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sniffing, and Therese thought she saw genuine concern spark within his eyes. ‘What you’re doing is illegal.’

Carol looked at Therese now, tired but assuredly. And that look held everything, much like how gravity held the universe exactly in place. It held the weight of their lives, from their first breath until now. It held the weight of everything they had been through together, during their time apart and their new life as a couple. It held the pathway to their future, and that first glance across the department floor in Frankenburg’s. It rippled between them like water, fluid but never separating, in perfect synchrony.

So what if it was illegal? Love like that wasn’t worth giving up on.

Their gaze was broken by Harge’s harsh tones.

‘I could have you arrested, you know? Do you want that? _Huh_?’ His voice grew louder as he took one assertive step towards Carol, reaching out to grab her arm. His fingers clasped tightly around her wrist despite Carol’s attempt to brush him off.

Instinctively, Therese sidestepped between them and pushed his arm away, lightly. Confidence rose within her like a tidal wave, fuelled by her profound need to protect her lover. She could barely recognise the words that flooded out of her mouth.

‘You touch her again – or threaten her – and I’ll call the police.’ She demanded.

Therese held his stare, unblinking, and time seemed to stretch out indefinitely ahead of them.

How much she had grown and changed within the last months, she thought, remembering the young woman who had cowered behind Carol’s record player in December just to hide from Harge’s yelling.

Eventually, he backed away, looking at his feet. Therese couldn’t tell if it was shame.

‘I’ll be out for two hours. I’ll be back at five.’

They followed him to the front door silently, still shaking from the argument.

‘This isn’t over.’ He said, pointing between them. ‘And don’t you fucking _touch_ my child, shop girl.’

And with that, he slammed the door.

******************************************

The three of them sat together around the living room table, surrounded by clutter. Paper cuttings were strewn about, glitter stuck to the table, and unwanted crayons rolled across the carpeted floor. But neither Carol nor Therese minded.

Rindy was quietly cutting out a stencilled angel shape from a stack of folded paper, her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Behind her, Carol was guiding her hands carefully, making sure she was using the scissors as safely as possible to avoid any incidents. The girl looked perfectly content and inspired by the creative activity, and it pleased Therese beyond belief. It was something they could both bond over and that gave her hope for the future of their relationship.

She felt the overwhelming urge to teach the girl all she knew; to share everything she loved with her.

When the shape had finally been cut – albeit a little messily – Rindy gasped, her eyes widening as she looked at Therese. She handed the folded paper to the brunette woman confidently, her chest puffing out with pride.

Slowly, Therese unfolded the angels, stretching her arms out wide enough so that the girl could see them all.

‘How many are there? Can you count them?’ Carol asked her daughter.

Rindy tapped at her fingers enthusiastically, whispering broken numbers under her breath. ‘Ten!’ She shouted finally.

‘Perfect. My clever girl.’

After placing the angels back on the table, Rindy grabbed a fistful of crayons and started to colour the angels, one by one.

As Therese looked at the mother and daughter, completely unaware and engrossed in the task at hand, she took the opportunity to take a couple of photos. Slyly, she reached across the carpet and flicked the camera on. Looking through the rangefinder, she focused on the two, illuminated by the warmth of the living room lamplight. Therese snapped photos of them embraced, smiles beaming across their faces, their eyes concentrating on lashing colours onto paper.

But Rindy caught her in the act. And her face distorted into a frown.

Therese lowered the camera in concern. Had she done something wrong? Did this cross any boundaries?

‘If you’re taking a photogaph, you have to be in it, Therese.’

‘Photo _graph_ , sweetheart.’ Carol interrupted, but she looked at Therese with a smile. ‘You heard the boss. Come and take a photo of the three of us.’

‘Well… all right. But I can’t promise they’ll be good.’

Setting up her camera on the table and clicking the timer, Therese quickly ran behind the two, placing one hand on Carol’s waist and the other on Rindy’s arm. They were all sat on the floor, the young girl sat upon Carol’s lap, bouncing excitedly. After a couple of seconds, the shutter snapped.

The brunette woman took a few more similar shots, just to be sure, and then turned her camera off altogether. She was already eager to rush to her apartment to develop and frame them. No matter how blurred or imperfect they turned out, she knew they’d be absolutely perfect for Carol because they’d be genuine. They’d capture the life they wished to have.

‘Hey, Rindy?’ Therese asked suddenly, surveying the three coloured angels on the table. ‘Who are these meant to be?’

‘Me, and Mommy, and you. Of course.’

_Of course_.

As if it was that simple.

After all the worrying Therese had done in the past week - after all the drama they’d faced with Harge a couple of hours ago - it was a six-year-old child who had understood their relationship better than anyone else. It was Rindy who could understand the love between them and where she fit between it all.

Therese looked to Carol. The woman was choking back tears, her arm squeezing her daughter’s shoulders lovingly.

‘You can keep them, Mommy. I think you need them.’ The girl said quietly. ‘I heard Daddy speaking loudly. I didn’t like it.’

‘Thank you, sweetheart. I love them.’ Carol kissed Rindy’s forehead. ‘Ten more angels to defend Therese and I. But you’re the strongest of them all, do you know that?’ She pointed at the angel that portrayed her daughter. ‘And I love you so much, always.’

‘I love you too, Mommy.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this made me cry a bit, and I'm only partly ashamed to admit that.
> 
> I read all of your comments and I find it so comforting knowing that most - if not all - of you share similar experiences to me. As much as I love reading stuff about my work, I love reading stuff about y'all more.
> 
> As I sit here writing, my cheap as fuck Christmas tree lighting up my small as fuck living room, I'm thinking of my Christmas four years ago. After dating my gf for six months (and being out of the closet to my parents for six months), my mum still couldn't say her name or hold a conversation with me. She could still barely look me in the eyes or physically face me. I'd never been close to my parents. I'm still not. But that's a whole other story full of a bunch of other reasons. But, anyway, four years ago, I bravely told my parents that I wanted them to meet my gf. My father enthusiastically agreed. My mother said nothing.
> 
> Whilst we sat in my cold, damp university housing, my girlfriend wringing her hands together nervously, my mother still said nothing. She looked away. She turned down my offer to take us all out for dinner. It hurt like a bitch and I felt sick having to apologise to my girlfriend for their behaviour.
> 
> Four year's on - we're still not close - but my mum is better. And she treats my girlfriend like family. And she's gifted us lovely presents and a 'couples' card. And it's really, really such a wonderful feeling to have my love, and my sexuality, recognised.
> 
> Anyway, enough drunken blabbing. I'd love to hear about you guys. If you're up for it, please leave me a comment about yourself and your journey. I'd love to read it. Whether you're in the closet, or have been out for decades, I want you to know that you're perfect and lovable and amazing.


	12. Chapter twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I wish I was good at writing :(
> 
> Also me: *Is a professional writer for a living*
> 
> I found this a really hard chapter to write, but that might be because life has been a bit stupid at the moment. Ugh. Anyway, enjoy!

Dannie and Louise propped their elbows on the table, resting their weight forwards, cans of beer cradled in their hands. They watched Therese quietly as she unveiled a couple of wooden frames from a paper bag.

After a tedious, emotionally exhausting work day of photographing a particularly nasty car crash (per Martin’s request), Dannie had insisted he accompany the brunette woman back to her apartment. It had been well over a week since she had last visited the empty, damp, and uninviting place.

On Therese’s request, they had stopped to visit a quaint arts and crafts store on the way. The old shop was nestled in a small back street, where Louise had decided to meet them. Together, they perused the shop and picked out the perfectly measured, minimalist photo frames; they were just the right size for the prints of Rindy Therese had developed earlier in the week.

‘I didn’t know Carol had a daughter,’ Dannie said watchfully, his eyes concealing a deeper question. He placed his now empty can of beer on the table and clasped his hands together.

‘Yes. Her name’s Rindy.’

She inserted a photo into one of the frames. It was one of the first she’d taken on the Saturday, and by far her favourite. In it, Carol was embracing an occupied Rindy as she held an angel up to the light, her face glowing.

After a brief pause, Dannie shifted his feet and looked anxiously at Louise, who gave him a brief but affirming nod.

‘Is that why you’ve, uh, been so quiet this last week?’

Therese snapped her head up. ‘I… well… Have I been quiet?’ Her voice was strained, almost forced. And she could hear the tiredness seeping out as plain as day. No wonder her friends were so concerned, she thought.

As much as she had wanted to pretend the last week hadn’t happened, she couldn’t. It was affecting her physically as well as emotionally now.

‘What happened?’ The man asked quietly.

What _hadn’t_ happened would have been a better question. Therese exhaled, noticing the dull ache in her chest that wouldn’t seem to leave, and thought back to the weekend.

After the brief, bittersweet, _beautiful_ hours they had spent with Rindy – colouring and laughing and talking about nothing at all - everything that had happened since had fallen apart like a tumbling landslide, threatening to break the foundations below her feet. It had felt more like a living nightmare.

Harge had stormed back into the apartment at five o’clock on the dot, his feet thundering across the floor. He wasted no time in grabbing Rindy by the hand and pulling her away from the two women, despite her wailing screams and cries. The girl missed her mother so desperately. And two hours simply wasn’t enough to make up for the weeks they’d spent apart.

But they knew they couldn’t stop the man and his custodial authority. So, Carol had stayed strong, and tried to sooth the girl, kissing her hurt away. Regardless of her persistent efforts, however, Rindy was inconsolable.

_‘I w-want to stay with Mommy_ ,’ she had said disjointedly. ‘ _And Therese_.’

It had broken their hearts to watch. But they fought their instincts and kept their distance.

Eventually, after numerous stern ‘no’s, Hargess took her outside the apartment front door and told her to quieten down. He peered his head back inside, looked directly at Carol, and said one last thing:

_‘My lawyer will be in touch.’_

His eyes lingered on Therese for the briefest moment before he closed the door, leaving the couple to process those six words together in silence.

Therese shook her head to rid herself of the memory, settled the photograph on the table and looked at the couple in front of her. Both of their faces were painted with worry, and she felt a pang of love and pride course through her. She hadn’t had many people in her life genuinely care for her wellbeing. It was nice to know she wasn’t battling alone.

‘Rindy’s father – Harge – he knows about Carol and I. He’s known since the beginning, in fact. He had a private detective… record a tape of us… in January.’ She felt ashamed of how vile and dirty the words felt as they slid off her tongue. Tommy Tucker had turned something so beautiful and private into a political statement – something to ridicule and dissect. And recollecting the incident, even months later, made her stomach churn with disgust.

She continued, tiredly, her eyelids shutting slowly.

‘He tried to terminate Carol’s custody rights completely, but she talked him out of it, I think… I don’t really know.’ She sighed, realising they hadn’t spoken at length about the months between January and April.

Tears welled in her eyes and her lips quivered. The rest was hard to get out. The wound was too fresh.

She’d barely gotten any sleep in the past five days, and she knew Carol hadn’t either. And everything was zipping and banging around her head like fireworks, startling her and rewiring her. There seemed to be no way to shut it out.

Louise quickly made her way around the table, running to Therese’s side to place a hand on her shoulder. She accepted the contact and within seconds released a shaking sob that wracked through her body violently, threatening to crumble her to dust. Tears rolled down her cheeks effortlessly and she wished so desperately that things could be easy. And why _weren’t_ they easy? Hadn’t she and Carol been through enough? Surely the universe owed them something good by now.

She’d take anything positive.

As Louise rubbed a hand up and down her shoulder, she cursed herself for the resentment and bitterness that coated her tongue.  Oh, how simple it was for Louise and Dannie to be in love and show it. How straight forward it was for them to live freely, or to live at all.

And it wasn’t that they didn’t deserve it – they were a loving, committed couple – but rather the fact that their love wasn’t better, or more natural, or more deserving of recognition. It was made of the same stuff. But their relationship was respected, and hers wasn’t.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ The woman asked timidly. The words felt weightless, but Therese was grateful for the thought behind them.

‘No. But thanks anyway.’ She said, her tears slowing to a stop. ‘Harge sought legal advice against me. He doesn’t want me anywhere near Rindy.’

It still didn’t feel real.

They’d had a call on Sunday from Harge’s lawyer, stating clearly that Rindy was only permitted to visit Carol and Carol only. If Therese tried to see the girl again, he’d reopen the custody case and pursue action against her. It was blackmail, really. A dirty threat made from jealousy. But it was understandably enough to cause them concern. Although female homosexuals were rarely prosecuted or arrested for sodomy by the New York law enforcement – usually being dismissed for ‘misbehaviour’ in its place – Therese was sure they’d take Harge’s reports seriously if it concerned a young child. And she dreaded to think of what vile, untrue things the man would accuse her of for the sake of winning his own game.

The brunette woman refocused her attention on the black and white photographs on the table. They were a gift to raise Carol’s spirits, really. But Therese had purposefully left the photographs of the three of them unframed, instead hiding them in a folder in her satchel. Looking at them would only make things harder for the both of them.

A thump sounded across the room, and it bounced off the walls like pinballs, shocking both Louise and Therese. Dannie had pounded the table with his fist; it was the sort of violence that rarely ever came from the sensitive man.

‘That bastard.’ He spat. ‘I swear I’ll-’

‘What?’ Therese interrupted, hopelessly, her arms falling limp at her side. ‘I’m not her mother, I get no rights. And I’m not going to take her away from Carol. Nothing can be done.’

‘No.’ His mouth tightened, his jaw hardened. ‘Therese, you’ve done nothing to deserve this, ya hear me? You might be able to take that for an answer, but I won’t. We won’t. We’ll find a way.’

‘A girl shouldn’t have two mothers.’ She whispered, tears re-emerging. A part of her felt disappointed at her own defeated outlook, but it couldn’t be helped. Therese had been worn down and her strength was becoming hard to find.

Louise gathered her closer again. ‘Two times the love is never wrong.’

But to Harge it was. And, unfortunately, he was the only person who needed convincing otherwise.

Therese took a seat at the table and accepted another beer from Dannie. It was all she had in the ice box now that she was moving out.

‘We’ll fix this, Terry.’ He promised, placing an assuring hand on her shoulder. She reached up to clasp it in her own.

‘I hope so.’

****************************************

The murmurings were slowly growing stronger as men and women filtered through the door, allowing themselves the luxury of relaxing at the end of their working days. Amongst the sounds of chatter were the soothing, predictable background noises of any typical restaurant: dishes clacking together, chefs yelling orders, meats and vegetables sizzling, their smells coiling their way into the dining area.

Carol leaned her head back against the soft, red pillow of the booth, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Her eyelids closed, her breathing slowed, and she basked in the distractions around her. How nice it felt to float amongst nothing at all, in between the air like a single atom, free of any troubles.

‘Cigarette?’ Abby asked from across the table, her hand outstretched with a metal tin. It pulled her out of her reverie.

Carol accepted and placed one in her mouth before bending forward to allow her friend to light it. She inhaled deeply, as if it would sustain her somehow. And when she exhaled, she imagined the ribbons of smoke were all her problems, slowly fading into nothing.

Her friend placed a hand in front of her, her fingers spread out, searching for contact. She squeezed it hard with her own, lightly lifting it up and tapping it back down. Abby really was her crutch in times like these.

‘Oh, Abby.’ Carol sighed. ‘It’s all a mess, isn’t it?’

The woman offered her a sympathetic smile but remained quiet. It couldn’t be denied, after all. Everything was a mess and there was no right or wrong way to clear a path through it.

‘You try and do the right thing by everyone and somehow, no matter what, it just -’ she sighed. ‘Falls apart.’

‘It certainly seems that way.’ Abby said. ‘But what are you going to do about it?’

She laughed bitterly. What _could_ be done?

‘I’ve no idea.’

The woman hummed. ‘And how’s Therese holding up?’ She asked carefully.

‘Not brilliantly. But what can you expect, really.’

‘I swear I’ll rip that man’s throat out, just you wait. The absolute nerve of him, threatening her with legal action.’ Abby seethed.

Carol smiled despite herself and in spite of the situation. Her friend was so incredibly dependable.

‘You needn’t fight our battles for us, darling.’ She said, patting Abby’s hand.

And then her mind wandered back to Therese, as it always did.

The younger woman had withdrawn almost completely within the last few days, saying very little, eating sparsely, and staying up half the night. It broke Carol’s heart to watch, but she couldn’t broach the subject without upsetting her further. So, instead, she faithfully stayed by her side, making copious cups of tea and rubbing circles on her back. Even when she herself felt the strains of the situation, she steeled her emotions and rose above them.

As much as Carol missed her daughter, as much as she hated Hargess for what he had done, as much as the pain consumed her, too, she knew it couldn’t compare to the guilt and helplessness her lover felt. At the end of the day, she was still being given the right see her daughter, no matter how sporadically. Therese was not.

After all their talk of mothering together, and eventually telling Rindy about the nature of their relationship in the distant future, the dream had evaporated before them like an oasis that had only ever been a mirage. And Therese had been swept to the side line once more: a spectator, witnessing the dust trails.

Carol couldn’t help but fear for the future of their relationship. How much more could the poor girl tolerate before she upped and left? Therese loved her fiercely, and this Carol knew… But an easier, more straightforward life wasn’t completely out of reach. Even a relationship with someone like Genevieve would be better, more beneficial, she thought bitterly.

‘Did you know Therese was practically orphaned as a child?’ The blonde continued, the words blurting out of her from nowhere. It was spoken more as a fact than a question.

‘No. No, I didn’t know that.’ Abby said sombrely. Her face seemed to open up, empathy glowing from her, emulating off of Carol.

‘She’s young, but she’s been through her fair share. I didn’t expect – I didn’t think – she’d ever want to be a part of this… Motherhood. And I was all right with that.’ She took a drag from her cigarette, her hand shaking. ‘But now that we have the damned idea in our heads, it’s hard to let it go.’

The woman nodded, her face dampening. ‘I know the feeling.’

Carol chided herself for being so careless and unthinking. The guilt that had settled deep within her over the years resurfaced as she searched her friend’s face.

Years ago, Abby would have given anything to assume that motherly role, too. Back when they were in love and Rindy was young. But Carol had known deep down that their love was only ever the temporary, fleeting sort. And she wasn’t in the place or mindset to throw away their friendship in place of a doomed relationship, regardless of what Abby had wanted. So, they settled on strengthening their platonic bond instead. Abby became ‘Aunt Abby’ to her daughter and, together, they navigated the everyday difficulties of an unforgiving world. They had been side-by-side, inseparable, ever since.

‘Forgive me, I didn’t think.’

‘It’s ancient history. I’m over it.’ Abby said dismissively, flashing her a genuine smile. ‘Besides, you know I’m still set on that redhead.’

‘God help the woman.’ She teased, and Abby squinted her eyes in mock annoyance.

They sat in silence for a moment, pondering all that had passed between them and the bulk of what was to come.

‘For what it’s worth, Carol,’ Abby began, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve never seen you as sure of yourself as you are now. You and Therese… you work. Don’t let Harge - or anyone, for that matter - ever taint that. Rindy is such a lucky, blessed child to be loved so fiercely.’

Carol looked upwards, blinking rapidly to suppress fresh tears.

‘Well, you know she’ll always need her godmother, too.’

‘She better. I’m counting on that girl to look after me when I’m old and incapable of doing anything.’

Both women shared a look before bursting into laughter, briefly forgetting their troubles.

A waiter arrived with two martinis. They clinked the glasses together and, for the next couple of hours, they let time waste away in their own bubble.

*******************************************

Therese arrived at their apartment later that evening, her arms wrapped across her chest as she held the framed prints in place. She’d taken the long walk alone, despite her friends’ offer to walk with her. As much as she appreciated their kindness, Therese was grateful for the time alone to think. Nothing gave her a more cathartic feeling than a walk in the dark amongst the cool breeze.

She knocked lightly and heard the quick clatter of heels as Carol rushed to open the door.

Even though she felt solemn, Therese couldn’t help the flash of warmth she felt as her lover revealed herself behind the door. She looked beautiful, dressed in a smart, tailored maroon blazer and skirt.

‘I really should get you your own key.’ Carol said, smiling.  

‘But then I wouldn’t get the pleasure of seeing your face whenever I come home.’ She chimed back, but it was spoken half-heartedly. Her sadness seemed to latch onto everything she said.

Once Therese made her way inside, Carol immediately enveloped her in a hug and kissed her forehead. The brunette rested her head in the crook of her lover’s neck and breathed her perfume in deeply, searching for the familiar comfort.

‘You were at your apartment for a long while. Is everything all right?’

Hesitating slightly, Therese pulled back and gazed at Carol searchingly, but she hadn’t the strength to answer honestly. Instead, she held one of the older woman’s hands and led her further into the apartment and through the kitchen. Both women pulled out the wooden dining chairs before sitting down.

Therese pushed the paper bag towards Carol, forcing a quick smile. ‘For you.’

Carol pulled out three framed prints: two of herself and the girl, and one of Rindy alone, scribbling on some paper with her tongue stuck out. The woman placed a hand over her mouth, overwhelmed by emotion.

‘Oh, darling... you didn’t have to do this.’

‘I wanted to. Do you like them?’ Therese asked, not meeting Carol’s eyes. ‘They were my favourites.’ But it was a lie. Her favourite pictures were still stashed away in her satchel, out of sight.

Her lover circled around the modest dining table, bending down to cup Therese’s face and kiss her cheek.

‘They’re wonderful, Therese.’ Carol said. ‘You’re incredibly talented, do you know that?’

She hummed in response, kissing her lover in return, although this time on the lips.

‘What about the photographs of the three of us?’

Therese was taken off guard. She didn’t think she’d notice.

Noting her discomfort, Carol’s face creased into a confused frown.

But Therese couldn’t respond, trapped in her own cocoon of silence. She wanted to reach out, to tell Carol how desperately sad she was, and how she felt it in her bones, and her chest. Everywhere. But she didn’t want to make matters worse. Carol didn’t need her complicating the situation further. So, rising from her chair, she pattered over to their bedroom without saying a word.

She dressed into her night clothes quickly, discarding her work clothes messily on the vanity, before pulling back the comforter on the double bed. Carol was stood in the doorframe, watching patiently.

‘Therese, darling, please talk to me.’ She said softly.

‘There’s nothing to say.’

Therese it sounded childish, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to cut the conversation short, to fall asleep and dream of something else - perhaps of a life where she and Carol could live happily and without worry.  

‘Right. And what happened to the photographs?’ Carol asked, her voice harsh now.

‘The photos didn’t turn out as well as I’d liked.’

There was a beat of silence. The blonde woman held the bridge of her nose with a thumb and finger and sighed.

‘I know you’re lying to me.’

Therese flinched. ‘I’m not lying.’ She snapped, her eyes stinging as she turned away to climb into the bed. She threw the covers over her legs and slunk down, her head propped up slightly against the headboard.

The older woman clicked her tongue in thought, or perhaps to bite back a retort. After waiting a moment, she sauntered over to the bed, sitting down by Therese’s legs. She rested a hand firmly on one of her thighs and squeezed, looking into her eyes imploringly. And, before Therese could register what was happening, tears were streaming down her face again, against her will.

Carol shifted up to meet her and pulled her close to her chest, letting the younger woman cry freely. They stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped around each other tightly, scared to let go, until Therese’s sobs subsided.

‘The photos are in my work bag, in the blue folder.’ The brunette murmured, her voice thick with tears.

Without a word, Carol moved out into the apartment hallway to search through her lover’s bag. When she returned, she held the blue folder nimbly in her hands. She sat back down on the side of the mattress and extracted the prints carefully.

There were two, and neither were perfect by any means. In fact, in one image Rindy was mid-movement, her arm blurred like an apparition next to Carol’s head. But the photos had captured the essence of the evening: the start of a new relationship, the continuation of another, and the acceptance and love of family.

‘I want these ones framed instead.’ Carol said with finality, now observing Therese. ‘They’re perfect.’

‘But I’m in them.’ Therese muttered.

Carol cupped her face now, leaning in closer so her eyes were level with hers. ‘Yes. And that’s why I want them framed.’

The brunette frowned and looked down at the photos once more. ‘I barely know her, Carol.’ She said quietly. ‘I’ll probably never see her again.’

‘You will.’ The older woman assured. ‘ _We_ will, together.’

‘No. You can’t know that... And if I do see her? I could get arrested.’ She was working herself up now, her mind swimming with anxieties. ‘What use am I to you if I can’t be a part of it? What use am I to you at all.’

Two fingers found their way under her chin and tilted her face up. Carol was crying now, too, her eyes pleading with Therese.

‘You are everything and more to me, my darling. I am not going to give up on this.’ She pleaded. ‘I want both of you, and I know you want the same.’

Therese nodded, her mouth down-turned at the corners. And then her barriers broke. Suddenly, she became desperate for more contact, circling a hand around Carol’s neck and pulling her down towards her mouth forcefully, kissing her hard. She ran her hands through her blonde hair, grasping handfuls and tugging slightly as their kiss deepened.  

Carol began taking her clothing off before clambering under the covers, eager to feel closer. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Therese whimpered as the older woman kissed down her jaw, her neck, her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I love you.’

‘I love you.’ Carol echoed in response, continuing her ministrations further down her lover’s body. Therese dug her fingers into her shoulders tightly, holding on for dear life, as they made love.

In the morning, they woke entwined in a loving, unbreakable embrace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm now at the point where I need to plan out the rest of the chapters (I've mostly stuck to my plan thus far, minus a few last minute changes here and there. This chapter was actually... rougher than I meant it to be.) 
> 
> So, anyway, forgive me if it takes me a while to get the next few chapters out! I have a busy week of meetings and travelling next week, too, which will no doubt affect the time I usually dedicate to writing. Christmas is such a hectic time, right?
> 
> On a separate note, I'd really like to thank you all for your wonderful, heartfelt comments. They're such a pleasure to read and they really make my day. 
> 
> I hope you're all well and feeling merry (even if you don't celebrate Christmas!) Sending love and peace and all of that stuff,
> 
> Claire


	13. Chapter thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shooting this one out (rather rushed) before the beginning of the working day. 
> 
> Enjoy! Or don't. You know the drill. :)

 

Voices fired out across the table like gunshots: short, loud, cutting. Calloused fingers pointed at whiteboards, photographs, a sea of men in suits and the occasional woman taking coffee orders. But Therese kept low in her seat in the corner of the room, ensuring she was out of attention’s way, her face tired and grey.

It was a Friday morning, however, and she clung to the knowledge that it’d be the weekend before she knew it. To say the working week had dragged would be an understatement. As much as she was thankful for her growing role at The Times, the lack of sleep she had gotten in the last few days had made her working life difficult at best. No matter whether she was out in the “field” or inside, note-taking or developing, everything was tainted by the impending anxiety of Harge and his lawyer. It followed her everywhere, like a looming shadow.

That being said, Therese was thankful for the openness she and Carol had shared the previous night. It was a relief that their relationship hadn’t torn at the seams, she thought. It was a slither of happiness, threading through her, keeping her standing.

‘Where are we at with the Lexington Avenue crash? Have we heard anything back from the police, mechanics, hospital?’ Martin Foxe addressed to the room, his eyes fixed on a handwritten list of subjects he needed to run through.

The journalist who had been assigned the task of researching the case, liaising with the police and the family affected, shot up a hand. Unfortunately, since the prior morning, one of the crash victims had passed away in hospital and so the story was delayed. He’d finalised the copy and was to finish editing up the piece later that morning, ready to be sent to the press the next day.

Therese leaned forward and nodded dutifully when Martin had asked her to develop the photographs immediately, ready to be sent along with the copy. And then the animated chatter quickly continued, and Therese looked on passively, letting the sounds and movement wash over her. The figures in the room appeared to move at twice the speed, orbiting around her, until the conversations came to an end.

Walking out of the briefing room, she caught sight of Dannie. His eyes were searching for her amongst the crowd of colleagues.

‘Hey, Therese!’ He called as her stood on his tiptoes, waving.

She stepped over to him and waited for the hum of people to filter away.

‘How are ya?’ Dannie asked.

‘You know… same old.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Sorry, I actually have to run off and get those prints developed.’

The brunette gave her friend a sympathetic smile before pivoting in the direction of the photography department. But, dutifully, he kept up with her pace, and then called out after her.

‘Well, let me join you, will ya? I can spare a few minutes.’

Therese didn’t respond but allowed the man to follow her. Once they were in the dark room, alone, illuminated by the red light, she immediately got to work. As much as she appreciated his attempt to keep her company, she quite liked the solitude of developing photographs alone.

‘So… Any more news?’

‘Dannie, it’s only been a day since I told you.’ She dismissed. Of course she hadn’t heard anything, of course they hadn’t _done_ anything. She was still mourning the situation and trying to balance out her feelings on the subject.

She and Carol didn’t have the time or energy to waste on it all. Not yet.

‘I know that, but -’

She looked at him pointedly and he hesitated.

But the tired, focused look in his eyes told Therese that he didn’t plan on quitting the conversation any time soon. Dannie clearly had something on his mind, nagging away at him, and she didn’t doubt that he’d been up half the night thinking about it. He was that sort of friend. As loyal as a retriever and as persistent, too.

Her face softened, and she bowed her head in a silent apology. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged, willing to listen to whatever he it was he needed to say.

‘I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right. I was worried he might have contacted you again.’ His eyebrows furrowed slightly. ‘Has he?’

‘No. We’ve heard nothing since that one phone call from his lawyer.’

‘And… have you thought about, y’know, fighting back?’

The smile dropped from her face.

‘Dannie, please, listen to me. I don’t want to think about it.’ Therese said, picking up bottles of chemicals that she then measured out with precision into containers. She was careful not to pour any onto her bare hands.

‘Terry…’ he began kindly, his voice growing quiet. ‘You might have to if things get bad. You do know that, right? You need to be prepared.’

She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, her face contorting as if she were in pain. After inhaling a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself down. There’d been enough crying this week to last her a lifetime. She was convinced there was nothing left in her.

‘It’s been an exhausting week. I’m tired.’ She murmured, her head still bent downwards, frozen. She couldn’t even muster the vigour to snap at him. ‘And… I’m not a fighter. That’s not who I am.’

Therese closed her eyes and stilled her hands that were dipping print paper in and out of chemical trays.

‘You really believe that?’ Dannie frowned, chucking slightly in disbelief. ‘You moved to New York City alone, no family or nothing. You made something of yourself despite it all. Hell, you even convinced that flummox Martin Foxe to land you a pretty neat job photographing.’ His eyes lit up, tainted red by the dark room’s light, but she knew that spark was for her. It was pride.

‘You fight every day.’ He continued. ‘To be who you are, to love who you love… I know you’ve still got it in you.’

Her friend walked over to her now and lay a hand on one of her shoulders.

‘Thanks, Dannie.’ She said sincerely. ‘I need time, though. I need to… not think about it. Do you understand?’

‘I get it.’ Dannie shot her a small, sympathetic smile. ‘But, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to keep thinking of ways to help.’

‘Dannie, I -’

‘Please?’ He interrupted. ‘I ain’t quitting.’

The finality in his tone made her close her mouth and nod. Regardless of whether she wanted him to pry or not, Therese knew there was no stopping him. He’d see it through, searching for a way out, until it bled him dry. Because that was the type of person he was, she thought. And, she knew, in that moment, she’d put in the same effort for him, too.

‘You’re a good friend, Dannie.’

The two hugged – an act of affection that rarely passed between them. And with that, he took a few steps backwards, turned, and left Therese to develop the rest of the film alone.

The room, in all it’s darkness and unsettling light, suddenly became quiet. Lonely.

As the images of the car crash faded into life from beneath the chemicals, a dull pain began to thud like the ticking of a clock in her chest. The victim who had died – a young girl, only a couple of years older than Rindy – had spent some of the last few painful hours of her life in that car. She couldn’t imagine what the parents must be feeling, knowing that they had outlived their own offspring before her life had even truly begun.

Selfishly, Therese then wondered what Carol and herself would feel if it had been Rindy trapped under the distorted, jagged metal, surrounded by the stench of gasoline and smoke.

It hurt in a different, sharper way to any other hurt she had experienced. The thought cut through her like a wound. But, she knew, if anything ever did happen to the girl, she would never be told. She’d never have the opportunity to be by her side with Carol, holding her hand.

Suddenly, the thought of fighting against Harge felt all too tempting. Therese allowed herself a few enjoyable moments to fantasise his pink, panicked face as he was threatened with a taste of his own medicine. Oh, how good that would feel to witness, she thought.

Gritting her teeth, she continued the job at hand, anger finally planting its seed beneath the sadness.

But before she let it fester, she buried it, and let it go. And waited for another day to watch it blossom.

******************************

‘Excuse me, Miss Belivet?’ The receptionist called from across the sparing lobby floor, waving an envelope in her hand impatiently. ‘Something came for you ‘bout an hour ago.’

Therese had been making her way out of the building, eager to get back to her and Carol’s apartment as soon as possible. She needed a nap or, better still, a drink.

Her heels clattered on the floor as she jogged over, concern building steadily within her, sending her heart rate through the roof. She rarely received anything at work, and she was almost certain the postman had already paid his visit in the early hours of the morning.

Harge was edging his way into her mind again, taunting her.

But he had no idea where she worked, had he? And if he did, what business did he have sending her mail instead of talking to her directly?

Therese thanked the woman and took the letter from her hands, but she was stopped for a second time.

‘Oh. And this.’ The receptionist bent down to pull a brown, paper-wrapped parcel from under her desk. She dropped it on the surface with a thud.

The brunette’s worry began to mingle with an odd sort of curiosity. Looking at the parcel, she could deduce that it wasn’t threatening. In fact, it looked more like a gift, with its white ribbon that was neatly tied into a bow on the top. Therese wasn’t usually gifted presents – even as a child – and when she was, she often felt guilty that anyone would spend their money on her of all people. She liked to pay her own way.

Eager to see what was inside, she circled around and found a secluded corner to open the flap of the envelope. Her fingers pulled out a card with a print of painted flowers on the front. She deftly flipped it open and, despite there being no signature, recognised Carol’s cursive, somewhat untidy handwriting immediately.

The tension in her body melted away. She read the note.

_Meet me outside your old place at 6PM?_

Therese’s apartment was only her’s for another week before another couple of tenants moved in. She wondered why Carol would ask her to return there, with all things being considered, but she could only assume the gift would offer some further insight.

After ripping open one end of the weighted parcel, she peered inside, and was able to make out some green fabric and a slither of white paper. She slid the paper out with her index finger.

_‘Wear me’_ , it read. A heart was scribbled underneath.

Therese felt a blush colour her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a smile.

It was so unlike Carol to do something so playful and bold: romantic, even. And if it had been anyone else, the brunette would have found it embarrassing. But this was Carol. And Carol could kill her with a look, if she wanted to. A flush of heat spread throughout her body as she speedily exited The Times’ revolving doors, pleasantly surprised by the mildness of the June late afternoon.

She had an hour until she needed to be ready for whatever was in store.

And so, mechanically, she flagged down a taxi and upon its arrival launched herself inside. On the ten-minute drive, she flitted about inside her bag for her key. Therese couldn’t help but recall the same spirit of nervous excitement, the anticipation of the lead-up to seeing Carol, that she’d felt in their first few encounters.

After paying the cab driver, she bolted to her apartment door and keyed it open. Forty-five minutes until she arrived, she noted as she glanced at her watch.

Once inside, she emptied out the contents of Carol’s parcel: a deep green - almost black - dress, detailed with lace across the bodice and under the neckline. It wasn’t something Therese would usually pick out for herself, but there was something innately charming about the fact Carol thought it would suit her. Her lover saw her body differently to how she did, after all.

Making her way into the bathroom, she slid off her clothes and pulled the dress on. She paused to take a long look at herself in the mirror. She noticed the sullenness of her cheeks, and the dark circles under her eyes, all a result of the emotional turmoil she’d been through in the last week. It wasn’t surprising, but it made her feel self-conscious all of a sudden.

Therese stretched out an arm to grab her makeup bag and began to touch-up her foundation and set it with powder. Then, she focused on emphasising her eyes and lips.

As she was swiped one last coating of mascara over her eyelashes, she heard a knock at the front door.

It was Carol, and she was uncharacteristically earlier than planned.

‘You’re earlier than -’ Therese stuttered, her mouth falling open as she observed Carol’s stunning red dress and matching lips. Her hair was curled, framing her face perfectly.

The blonde woman took a step inside and clicked the door shut quietly.

‘You look very fine.’ She murmured, placing both of her hands on Therese’s hips. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes, it’s beautiful. I – ‘ The brunette smiled, genuinely, her dimples showing. ‘What is this?’

‘A dress, darling.’

Carol bent down to kiss her, her lips lingering for a moment. One of her hands slid its way up to Therese’s neck and pulled her closer.

‘You know what I meant.’ Therese teased.

‘A date, isn’t it obvious?’

But before the brunette could respond, Carol was ushering her out of the apartment. Together, they gathered inside Carol’s car and drove in comfortable silence, their destination still unknown to Therese.

********************************************

The couple were sat opposite one another at an intimate round table, hidden from view in the corner of the upmarket hotel’s dining room. Around them, they were surrounded by pristine white walls and golden ornaments, distracted only by the green of banana leaf plants.

A waiter teetered over to place napkins on their laps and hand them a couple of food and drinks menus. He stood patiently by the table, his hands held obediently behind his back, before Carol smiled and asked for a bottle of orange wine. Therese couldn’t recall the name of the bottle, or where it was from, but she nodded along when her lover had asked if it would suffice.

‘I took a trip to Europe when I was in my early twenties,’ Carol said as the waiter disappeared to fetch the bottle. ‘My sister and I stumbled across the most beautiful family-run vineyard in Georgia, and we tasted orange wine for the first time. I’m quite partial to the stuff, but it’s particularly hard to find.’

The waiter returned with the bottle, allowing Carol to taste a sample before pouring both women a glass and leaving the bottle in the centre of the table. Then, they gave him their food orders, almost mechanically. He vanished once more, leaving them to their conversation.

‘Divine.’ The older woman hummed as she took a sip of the wine. ‘Have you ever been to Europe?’

‘No… I’ve never left the States, actually.’

Therese remembered Richard’s offer to take her to Europe that she’d turned down at the last minute without so much as a second thought. She smiled to herself; she’d take being with Carol over any experience, no matter how big.

‘That’s a shame. I’ll have to take you one day. You’d be at home in Paris, I can tell… And the Cornish coast of England is very beautiful in the summer.’ She looked at Therese longingly, her hand edging across the white cloth of the table subconsciously. ‘Would you like that?’

‘Well… Yes.’ She smiled. ‘You know I’d like to go anywhere with you. But you needn’t spoil me.’

‘But I like to spoil you, darling.’

Therese held her gaze, blushing, and took the delicious moment to admire her lover’s perfect features. She scanned her eyes across the fullness of Carol’s lips, the inquiring tilt of her eyebrows, her wise, blue-grey eyes that seemed to know her completely. They remained silent for a moment, lost in the stillness.

‘What’s this all about?’ Therese asked quietly, and she could have sworn she was in a daydream. Was she really here with Carol? Were they really a couple? It felt like the clocks had re-wound and it was the first time all over again. Only this time it was different: there was no doubt between them.

Her lover broke eye contact to take another drink. ‘Isn’t it what lovers do?’ She said, almost dismissively. But the question was still swirling unanswered in Therese’s eyes, and so she continued, all the while looking down at her fingers running up and down the stem of her wine glass.

‘It seems like we’re always weighted down by something, or someone… _Life_. I’m fed up of spending each day looking over our shoulders.’ Carol sighed. ‘I just want to love you and be in love. I want to do what lovers do and enjoy it and think of nothing else.’

It was only then, in that moment, that Therese realised she’d gone hours without thinking of Harge and his threatened lawsuit. Carol had consumed each of Therese’s thoughts, conducted the movement of her every brain cell, pulled her in and cloaked her with genuine love. And it had all been intentional, yet natural.

Carol had seen her struggle and had given her solace. Peace. And she’d spent her day off organising it all.

The brunette licked her lips, her eyes swimming with awe at the woman and her power over her.

She’d never not love her, she decided with finality.

‘You’re wonderful.’ Therese whispered, her eyes still wide and in love.

However, her reverie was broken by the deliverance of their meals. Therese couldn’t even string together the right words to thank the man as he placed her dish in front of her. Instead, she followed Carol’s lead and began to eat.

‘It’s silly, thinking back on it all. But it feels nice.’ Therese said timidly, embarrassed, but Carol gave her a warm, affirming nod to continue. ‘When I first met you, I wrote you that Christmas card because I couldn’t think of anything else. I knew right from the start, I think. I was drawn to you from the first moment like it was destiny. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, Carol.’

She paused, stilling her knife and fork, and continued shyly. ‘Thank you for this.’

The older, blonde woman stared at her incredulously, opening and closing her mouth as she struggled to find the right response. She looked overwhelmed, caught up in Therese’s words.

So, instead, she reached for her clutch and pulled out a small pouch. She slid it across the table.

Therese opened it, and a smile broke across her face immediately.

‘I got your key cut today.’ Carol murmured before fishing out something else from her bag.

‘Thank you, Carol I -’ She was met by another gift: a small, black velvet box. ‘What’s this?’

‘Open it.’ Her lover pushed gently, although Therese could see nervousness building up behind her steeled exterior.

Flipping open the lid, the younger woman found a small golden ring. It was a simple, feminine band embellished with what looked like small sapphires.  As if in a trance, she pulled the ring out of its holding and turned it over in the palm of her hand, admiring the way it sparkled under the table’s flickering candlelight. Lining the inside of the ring was a simple engraving – ‘ _I love you, always – C_ ’.

She placed the ring on the middle finger of her left hand and stared at it for a moment.

‘If you don’t like it we can choose another togeth-’

‘It’s perfect.’ Therese interrupted, still looking at the gold and blue shimmering on her hand. It reminded her of glimmering, fluid reflections of the sun on the sea – two entities in perfect synchrony.

‘Well… that’s that.’ Carol said shyly, before continuing to eat her meal. And she smiled at Therese’s face that reddened when she caught her eye.

‘I do love you an awful lot, you know.’ The older woman continued, a flush colouring her cheeks, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this chapter, but the plot panned out the way I wanted to, so maybe I'll just tweak it slightly at a later date. 
> 
> Anyway! Sheesh, what a hectic few months it's been. I'm heading to the big city over the next couple of days, then I'm returning to the sleepy little celtic village I grew up in for the Christmas period. There's nothing I love more than visiting home and breathing in the salt air. 
> 
> I hope you're all good and happy. Sending my well wishes to you all, as always. :)


	14. Chapter fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am alive! It's been a week since I last updated, but it's felt like a lifetime. What an insane week it's been.
> 
> Also, I've borrowed a quote from the book in this. Needless to say I didn't write said book. Unless I did and forgot about it (and my age).

The relentless June sunshine glistened and streaked across the body of the car, blindingly so. It followed them as they drove out of New York City and into a blurring Eden of greens and yellows and blues. Towering trees replaced grey stonework and steel beams, dotting themselves about in a way that only mother nature could find order in. Of course, suburban houses planted themselves amongst nature, too, bold and neutral and inoffensive. 

The two women held their heads high, seeking out the mild breeze as it rustled across their cheeks and scarf-clad hair. It was the sort of day that felt like an open book – a blank page to be filled in. And, had they been young again, Carol supposed it would be the perfect day for childish, unrestrained adventure. The sort where you could lose yourself in your own head without worry.  

But there was a fog clouding the back of her mind, as there always seemed to be. It was something that sunk heavily in her chest; a tight, dense sensation that consumed her. And it grew bigger, day-by-day, like a thunderstorm ready to erupt.  

Carol perched an elbow over the exposed passenger side door, resting her chin upon the heel of her hand. Through thick-rimmed black sunglasses she watched the scenery of New Jersey flood over her like a memory she couldn't quite wrangle together. In the shapes and the strokes of colours, she saw Therese's face. Her soft skin, her questioning, beautiful eyes, and her slanted, quizzical eyebrows. And the way she had looked at Carol before she had left their apartment that afternoon: unwavering, brave, a ripple of something greater stirring beneath her. Therese's strength surprised her, even now, after everything they had seen through together.

And Carol wondered how a woman so young, and seemingly so timid, could hold so much self-assurance.

‘Hey, are you feeling all right? You’re unnervingly quiet.’ Abby called over the wind, slowing her speed slightly as they approached a large gravel driveway. Potted plants and decorative stones marked the entrance to the grand house. The place looked larger than it had done before somehow.

‘Your god-awful driving must have rendered me speechless.’ Carol chided, patting her friend on the knee. The car came to a halt with the sound of a handbrake cranking up. And then nothing. Birds chirped in the branches of nearby trees and the faint sound of car motors carried across the light wind, but they were only murmurs.

Carol suddenly felt alone in the world. She craved the hum of life, the footsteps of strangers, the loose endings of conversations. There was nothing for her to bounce off of.

She grabbed the rear-view mirror and tilted it so that she could observe herself. Mechanically, she lowered her scarf and smoothed out her hair, groaning at the sight of her flustered, reddened cheeks and the drying lips that had chapped in the wind. It’d have to do, she thought. There wasn’t time to waste.

As if reading her thoughts, Abby snatched the mirror back, took off her sunglasses, and stared Carol in the eyes. There was a challenge brimming underneath her gaze. She’d seen that look one hundred times before.

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ Her lips moved slowly, cautiously, as her eyebrows dipped down. A single lock of brown hair fell across her forehead and she leaned forward to touch Carol’s elbow.

‘I have to be, don’t I?’

‘You don’t have to do this.’

Abby’s voice was stern, but Carol could detect a lilt of pride.

‘I -’ Carol released a wavering breath. Why were thoughts always so difficult to string together into sounds, she wondered. ‘I can’t bear to see her so unhappy… He might listen to me.’

As she uttered the last sentence, her friend scoffed and rolled her eyes. But Abby turned to gaze at Carol with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Perhaps, Carol thought, Abby had never really seen her in this light before: truly, deeply at the mercy of love. And vulnerable because of it.

‘I’ll pick you up in an hour. At eight?’ Abby questioned, bringing the engine back to life as Carol opened the car door to step out.

She nodded, her hand still grasping the door handle as if she wasn’t ready for Abby to leave. ‘You better be there on the dot. I don’t think I could stand a minute longer than necessary in this place.’

Abby shot her a sympathetic smile.

‘Thank you for dropping me off.’ The blonde woman continued.

‘Therese is lucky to have you fighting for her.’ Abby said absentmindedly, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular, as if the words had only meant to be uttered in her head.

Suddenly, Carol felt a pang in her chest at the thought of Therese alone in their apartment, waiting for her to return with some news.

Earlier in the week, they had decided amongst the two of them that Carol would approach Hargess again, politely, to try and rid the situation of any overarching threats. Her lover wasn’t in the wrong and she couldn’t stand by and watch the issue consume her. Therese didn’t deserve to be threatened with legal repercussions for being true to herself, their relationship, and Carol’s child. She didn’t deserve to suffer through the brute of Harge’s anger and resentment. So, they had agreed, if they could convince the man in a relaxed environment, perhaps he might lax his approach. Perhaps the mountain would shrink into a hill.

On the Wednesday, Carol had picked up the phone to ring him, with Therese sat silently by her side. He had gruffly agreed to talk with her, but they had said nothing more. Context wasn’t necessary, after all, and the man knew she would only contact him for one reason only: Rindy.

‘Well, wish me luck.’ Carol said breathily, her mind distracted.  

And with that, Abby saluted Carol a goodbye and reversed out of the driveway. Once more, the blonde woman’s ears rang with stark silence and it felt as if life itself had been suffocated.

Straightening up, she sunk her heels into the gravel and walked towards the front door, knocking the brass ring that was held between the jarring teeth of a lion. She thought of the ring on Therese’s finger and how perfectly it fit. She thought of how love should never be set in fear or held hostage. It gave her a strange surge of strength. Carol raised her chin and sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth as she heard the heavy _thud thud thud_ of footsteps. She’d recognise the weight of Harge’s steps anywhere. And the anxiety that came with them reared its ugly head, threatening to shatter her composure.

‘Carol.’ He greeted stoically, though his locked jaw and dazed eyes seemed to suggest he was concealing something deeper, like a plaster on a wound.

She stepped inside the elongated hallway, her eyes glazing over the yellowing wallpaper and framed family portraits that she had learned to forget. The musty smell of unused rooms and ageing furniture wound its way around the corridors and into her nostrils, and it reminded her of years gone by. Years where she mistook security for love and comfort for companionship, when life forced her to follow its narrative. And as the door closed behind them with a loud, echoing _bang_ , she felt as she had done on her first ever luncheon in the dreary house: contained within someone else’s life. Trapped in a box.

‘Are Jennifer and John home?’ She asked, then becoming aware of how pathetic the question had sounded. Carol didn’t fear Harge’s parents, but she certainly didn’t like them. She never had.

‘No.’

‘And Rindy?’

‘They’ve taken her to the pictures. There’s a summer showing of Alice and Wonderland.’ The man looked down at his feet. His words were monosyllabic and cold.

‘Right.’ Carol couldn’t conceal the disappointment in her voice.

‘I saw Abby drop you off.’ Harge said, sitting down on the armrest of his father’s favourite armchair. It was striped in muted reds and greens and tarnished slightly where the stitching held the material together.

‘She thought I might be too upset to drive. Is that a problem?’

She stood in the doorway of the living room, her upper arm leaning against the frame. It was nice to look down on Harge for once. The man stared at her incredulously, his fingers toying with a cigar – fidgeting had always been a nervous habit of his, Carol remembered.

A dense silence grew, shimmering between them and rising above them like a heatwave.

‘Back to her now that things haven’t worked with the shop girl?’ Harge sniped, his voice thick, his words dripping.

‘And what makes you think that things aren’t working out?’

Her eyes were icy now and her lips set in a fine line. In a bold move, she walked towards the glass drinking cabinet, unlocked the lock and poured herself a short glass of whiskey. She didn’t need to look at her ex-husband to know he was seething. Carol could practically hear his blood boiling.

Taking a gulp of the burning amber liquid, she turned to face him, asserting as much dominance as she could muster.

‘I thought I made it clear.’ He began, grinding his teeth together. With both hands he lit his cigar to keep himself occupied, placing it deftly in the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll set my lawyer on her if she sees my daughter again.’

‘Why?’

She threw her head back to finish her glass in a single shot.

‘ _Why_?’ Harge spat. ‘Because she’s an invert – a filthy, perverted -’

Carol set the glass on a marbled table, loudly, to interrupt him and took a step forward, folding her arms across her chest. ‘So am I.’

The words rang between them, looping endlessly. And a quietness settled, like a stream after a rock had been thrown in. It was a stubborn acknowledgement of words that had been understood by both parties but had never been spoken before. Moisture shone across Carol’s eyes. She bit her cheek to fight the tears from forming.

‘No, you’re not.’ Harge said quietly now. He was hurt. ‘Abby was a mistake, a poor misjudgement. But this? You’re sick, Carol. You need help.’

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her mind wandering back to unpleasant memories of her compulsory psychiatric appointments. Carol recalled the incessant questioning of her childhood, her relationship with her parents, her sex life, her perversions. She batted each question away like it was nothing, providing textbook answers like clockwork in the hope that her hour sessions would fly by. At the end of every appointment, the doctor had told her to set her sights on the end goal: becoming a fully-functional heterosexual, as Harge and the world wanted her to be. But in her head, no matter how hard she had tried, she only saw Therese smiling at her from the twin bed in Waterloo, her hair cascading across the pillow, her arms falling limberly beside her.

And on the cab drive to the court hearing, where she had clung to the sight of the brunette crossing the busy street, Carol knew that she’d always see Therese wherever she went. It would be Therese, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and hell.

That wasn’t sickness. It was love.

‘I’ve told you before, but you can’t – _won’t_ – listen. I’m not sick, I don’t need help.’ She said finally. ‘I am in love with Therese and you _cannot_ change that.’

Harge’s face softened in a sad sort of way. He stubbed his cigar out in an ashtray and brushed a hand through his head of black hair.

‘In sickness and in health, you said.’ He muttered.

And in spite of everything, Carol felt pity for the man. Harge didn’t love her, not really – and this she had always known - but he wanted to fight for their marriage. He would have stopped at nothing to keep them together, even if it meant years of petty arguments and awkward silences. But that was no life for either of them or Rindy, she thought.

‘I didn’t understand. I – what I mean to say is, I hadn’t known then.’

‘Known what?’

‘That I was as I am.’ She observed Harge’s blank expression and sighed. ‘Don’t make me say it, Harge.’

His jaw clenched, but he waited. He wanted to hear it.

‘A lesbian.’

The man erupted before her, rising from the chair and swiping an ashtray off the coffee table. It smashed into the wall, shattering into tiny, glittering fragments. Harge stood with his legs apart and his arms wide, the muscles in his arms and hands protruding, bulging, as if he were about to burst apart before her. His eyes were spaced out and blackened with anger. It was enough for Carol to take a few precautionary steps backwards.

‘You married _me_.’ Harge yelled, his voice reverberating through the house. He thudded his chest to emphasise his words. ‘You told me you loved _me_.’

Carol backed into a bookshelf and searched blindly for a heavy object to hold onto, should she need it.

‘We made a daughter together.’ He continued, his eyes burning into hers now, his face quivering with anger. ‘I thought you’d see sense. I thought you’d remember what we had and give her up for Rindy – for _me_.’

Her fingers fumbled and clasped around the metallic, weighted base of a spinning globe, hidden behind her back.

‘We had nothing, Harge, not in the end.’ Carol said calmly, though her eyes were wide with panic. ‘You know it wasn’t love – it was comfortable. It was ownership.’

He bared his teeth, much like the brass lion nailed to the front door of the Aird house. And before she could register what was happening, his face was inches from hers, his warm, smoky breath suffocating her. It was nauseating.

His hands gripped her upper arms tightly and her hold on the globe loosened entirely. It wobbled audibly on the shelf, but Harge hadn’t heard it. His focus was solely on breaking her down and shoving her in his pocket, as it always had been.

‘You can love me again. We can be a family again.’

‘No.’ Carol whispered.

‘You just need to try.’ His fingers dug further into the flesh of her arms. ‘You were getting somewhere with the psychiatrist. I know it.’

The blonde woman locked eyes with him. ‘Let go of me.’

But he didn’t want to listen.

‘ _Harge_.’

Carol’s jerked her arms backwards, causing the man to snap out of his reverie. But he only grew angrier, his face turning pink to red. With one swift movement, he retracted his arms away from her, but the speed of the movement sent her hurtling into the bookshelf. She stumbled on her feet slightly, struggling to gain her balance.

Harge’s face suddenly flashed with shame. He offered her an arm to hold, but she swiped it away with one of her own.

‘Drop the threats against Therese.’ Carol demanded, rubbing her hands soothingly over her arms. ‘She’s done nothing wrong, this has nothing to do with her.’

He burst into hysterical laughter and turned to face away from her, fishing for another cigar.

‘She’s not seeing my daughter, Carol.’

‘Rindy dotes on her. And Therese would never hurt her.’ She was begging now. ‘Please.’  

He puffed in a mouthful of smoke before blowing it out of his nose, calming himself down a little bit. Then, he paced out of the room in a hurry. Carol followed him, jogging slightly, to the front door, and watched him fling it open. The handle banged noisily against the hallway wall.

‘Get out of my house.’

He held his head down, his eyes hooded, as he pointed one fat finger to the doorstep. Without a word, Carol resigned herself to exiting the house. Her body was shaking with the remnants of fear and the beginnings of anger.

‘There’s not a force in this world that could stop me from seeing Rindy.’ Carol said, holding the door open with one hand from the outside. ‘And nothing that could stop me from loving Therese.’

He didn’t respond.

‘You’ll have to learn to accept it one day, Harge. Rindy needs me.’

The door slammed shut in her face. Shakily, she sat down on the porch step and waited in dreaded silence for the arrival of Abby’s car, praying that the woman would arrive early.

 

*************************

 

Therese was curled up above the duvet on their bed, flicking through the pages of book in a frugal attempt to distract her whirling mind. But it was useless.

She reached for one of the framed prints of Carol and Rindy, her fingers lightly brushing over Carol’s jawline longingly. Was it normal to miss someone all the time, she wondered? It felt as if they should always be together, intertwined, in a perfect rhythm.

Abby and her lover had set off hours ago without her. There was no doubt that Carol could protect herself, but Therese shuddered worryingly at the thought of Harge’s searing anger and heavy hands. His reddened, shiny face and burning eyes were all she could think of, flashing into her mind like fragments of a nightmare. And she couldn’t help but wish she could have come along, too, even if it had meant risking everything.

A key turned in the door.

And before she could register the sound, her body was already waiting outside of the bedroom door, her breathing caught in her throat. Carol shuffled through the doorway, guided by Abby, and lazily dropped her black leather handbag on the floor. She held her head down, her hair messily falling across her face, and Therese didn’t need to be told to run to her side and hold her. In seconds, her arms were wrapped around her lover’s waist, pulling her closer.

Looking over one of Carol’s shoulders, she caught Abby’s eye and registered her worried, sour expression. As Therese held onto the blonde woman, Abby’s hand that was placed on Carol’s back fell to her side.

‘What happened?’ Therese asked quietly. She moved a hand up to cup Carol’s face, dipping her head to catch her gaze. Therese couldn’t work out if the older woman was upset, or angry, or both at once.

‘Harge,’ Abby answered on her behalf. ‘The son of a bitch has got a temper hotter than the sun itself.’

Therese’s eyes widened in panic and her mouth fell open. Taking another affirming look at Abby, she reached for Carol’s hand and wordlessly led her through to the living room. The older woman remained silent, letting herself fall down and into the soft cushioning of the sofa.

‘What did he do?’ Therese murmured, resting her forehead against Carol’s shoulder as she slinked an arm across her waist. ‘Tell me.’

‘It’s fine, Therese.’ Carol snapped. ‘You needn’t baby me.’

The younger woman retracted her arm, hurt, and noticed Abby, who was stood awkwardly against the opposite wall, roll her eyes and let out a jagged sigh. The woman leant forward and folded her arms, giving Carol a pointed look before turning to face Therese.

‘She’s a handful, isn’t she?’

Carol set her teeth together to seemingly bite back a harsh retort. She was upset, perhaps even humiliated, and Therese knew that her shortness was only a façade to help hide her vulnerability.

‘Show her your arms, Carol.’ Abby said, gesturing her hand to the sleeves on the blonde woman’s blazer.

But Therese didn’t wait for her lover to remove the garment. She did it herself, swiftly, before Carol had a chance to protest. And when her bare arms were revealed, Therese caught sight of harsh, purpling bruises dotted up Carol’s elbows and biceps, prominent against the paleness of her white skin. Silently, she lightly traced her fingers over them, her eyes brimming with tears.

She fought back the anger that threatened to erupt from her at any moment: it could be saved for for another better, stronger day. After all, the last thing Carol needed was more of the same and raised voices and threats wouldn’t fix the situation. Gently, she turned her lover’s head to face her. The woman couldn’t meet her eyes, however, and so she kissed her on the mouth deeply, trying her hardest to convey how she felt. _I love you_ , she wanted to say. _I love you and you’re safe with me here, and I’d do anything to protect you._

In the corner, Abby shifted awkwardly on the spot, turning her eyes away from their exchange.

‘I should head off. Make sure she’s all right, will you?’

‘No.’ Therese said firmly. ‘Stay a while. You don’t have to go yet.’

The woman’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape with mild surprise. Even Therese felt shocked at her own words. When had she ever wanted Abby to stay with Carol and herself before?

But she realised, warmly, that her change of heart was simply a change of perspective. Abby wasn’t foe, or competition; she was Carol’s best friend – the solace Carol needed to stay sane. And that meant she was Therese’s friend, too.

Carol rested her head back against the sofa and looked towards Abby, smiling a little despite herself. ‘You owe me a drink. I told you she doesn’t hate you, Abby.’

‘Oh pipe down, you nitwit.’ Abby countered, though her cheeks flushed. She took a seat on a small armchair and crossed her legs.

The three women spent the rest of the evening chatting lightly about everything and nothing, drinking and smoking sparingly, and taking comfort in the warmth of love and friendship.

Anger, bitterness and revenge could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Carol. :( 
> 
> On a sidenote, I hope you've all had wonderful weeks. Let me know! 
> 
> I'm incredibly exhausted, but I've only got one more week of work until I have my Christmas holiday. (I work from home, so I'm currently writing in my childhood bedroom... It feels odd.)
> 
> Love and hugs and all that,  
> Claire


	15. Chapter fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being at home's weird because I feel like I revert back to how I was 6+ years ago. I water myself down to be tolerable and less 'out'. I feel less myself. And, on top of that, I'm dealing with some discriminatory stuff at work, which isn't ~horrific, but it's complicated and I can't talk about it with anyone at home because bringing up LGBT+ stuff with my family is just............. no. But it's okay, I guess? I've got two more days of working and then I have some time off. At least I get to rest and eat and drink a lot. 
> 
> Anyway, writing this has been such a nice way to unwind. I'm so thankful for all your support, kind comments and personal stories. It really makes my day and warms my poor, emotional, lesbian heart.
> 
> Sorry for complaining (lol), I'm just going through the motions. You know how it is.

 

Therese wandered into the dark room hurriedly, her heels tapping rhythmically on the wooden floor. Wanting to waste no time, she bundled up her prints – a set of five photographs depicting subway workers on strike at a local station – and exited the room in a flurry. Martin had wanted the briefing room attendees to ponder over the photographs within the next few minutes and, in her current mental state of disarray, she’d accidentally left them hanging up on the line to dry. It had been careless of her: a mistake she didn’t often make. Though, fortunately, she’d managed to sneak out of the room undetected during a particularly heated debate about the subject.

Silently, she cracked open the door and slid through the small gap, hoping the Chief of Photography hadn’t noticed her absence. Therese filtered behind a group of male, predominantly middle-aged, journalists. And somehow, without meaning to, she caught Dannie’s eye. He was note-taking on the opposite side of the room, chewing the end of a pen in between his teeth.

The man looked at her with concern, and she realised quickly that she hadn’t yet informed him of Friday’s situation. There was no use now, she thought. Not with so many people around.

She closed her eyes, blanked her mind and tried to keep pace with the meeting at hand. And when Martin called out her name dutifully, Therese spread the photographs out on the lengthy table and took a step back.

The woman was used to fading away in between the shadows of average men, like the ghost of a presence. Most of the time she truly felt invisible in her work environment.

But today was different. Today, her boss had stopped her in her tracks.

‘Wait.’ Martin Foxe said, his eyes fixed on the scattered photographs, as he raised a ‘stop’ hand to her.

‘Yes?’

She hesitated by the table, her body slanted to one side as if she was ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

‘I’d like your opinion, Belivet. You’ve read Bernard’s article, right?’

Therese’s eyebrows knitted together. She’d worked on five or six assignments now, with little post-involvement, and so she struggled to understand why he’d want her opinion now.

‘Why… Uh, yes, this morning.’ She murmured, confused.

‘Right. Good. So which photograph do we go for?’

Therese stepped timidly towards the table and took a moment to observe the prints once more. She never usually had much of a chance to admire her photographs once they had been developed.

‘We don’t have all day, Belivet.’ He sniped, his voice gravelly. ‘Make a choice.’

Therese made her decision quickly, allowing her gut to tell her which photo was the right fit for the article. ‘This one here.’

She slid a print across the table. It was a portrait of a slim man wearing a tweed cap, his face scrunched into a frown, his mouth opened wide as he shouted something. He held a cardboard sign above his head, scrawled with the words: ‘fair pay for fair work’. Of all the men and women she’d photographed, he was by far the most passionate, the most expressive. Looking at his face, Therese knew he was suffering in life and perhaps always had done. The man held more empathy and understanding than a lot of people she knew.

A snigger sounded from behind her. As she twisted her head, she caught sight of a blonde-haired man in his late 30s, grinning disconcertingly. His legs were propped up on the table, his feet crossed on top of one other.

‘Him?’ The man asked. ‘Really? Looks like a pansy if you ask me.’

A handful of other men around the table laughed quietly, attempting to conceal their smiles with the palm of their hands. Amongst them, she saw Dannie fidgeting on the spot, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. His fists were clenched by his sides, whitening with the strength of his grip. But it couldn’t compare to the feeling flooding within her.

‘Excuse me?’ Therese said suddenly, her voice as clear and sharp as broken glass. She struggled to register the words coming out of her mouth: they felt like they hadn’t belonged to her. The strength seemed to arise out of thin air.

She thought of the distinct bruises on her lover’s arms. She thought about how hopeless she felt watching the quiet resentment festering underneath Carol, that surfaced even in her mundane, everyday activities. The way the woman collapsed into a heap after work without taking her coat off, the times she had forgotten to buy milk and got irrationally upset, the smiles that only sometimes reached her eyes. And Therese thought of the words Harge had said weeks ago to the both of them, as well as the words he had yelled, brutally, to Carol mere days ago. She pondered about love and what love meant, and how none of the finer details really mattered at all. Not fundamentally. Not in the grand scheme of things.

‘Look at him,’ the man commented as he shifted into a sitting position. He jabbed one finger at the photograph. ‘You can see it in his face and the way he holds himself. He’s definitely a pansy – most likely a commie. But I reckon you wouldn’t understand, huh? Being a woman an’ all.’

Her eyes flitted open in shock and her hands began to tremor by her sides. How vile and ignorant, she thought. She couldn’t believe how cruel some people could be. And what did political affiliation have to do with anything?

In one swift movement, she snatched the photograph from his grubby hands and held it close to her.

‘I just see a man struggling to get by,’ Therese countered, anger bubbling in her chest and seeping out of her, coating her words. She debated saying something further, about how it didn’t matter who the man loved, or who anyone loved. But she bit her tongue.

‘Oh?’ The blonde smiled. ‘And what do you see when you look at me?’

A jeer came from a stranger beside him.

Dannie’s stare burnt into the side of her head.

Gritting her teeth together, she gave the journalist the satisfaction of considering his question. Deep down, she wanted to throw something at his smug, unproportioned face that somehow grew uglier and uglier the more she looked at it. She wanted to yell or scream or grab him by the collar and throw him off his chair and onto the ground, squirming, humiliated. There was something satisfying and primal about wanting to gain control of the situation.

In a split second, when her eyes unfocused slightly, she could see Harge’s face. And her urge to do violent things to the man only grew stronger. But she kept her feet firmly planted to the floor, grounded.

Therese wondered how many Harges there were in the world and why they acted how they did. She imagined them all in a single room, spitting and baring their teeth like savage animals in unison. Therese would never be able to fight them all.

Her stomach twisted painfully, her heart thudded slowly: a dull ache that repeated itself, droning in her ears. What good would she be if she treated others the way Harge had treated Carol, she thought. What sort of person would that make her?

And so, she surrendered to her good nature. The tension left her body, leaving her feeling weaker than before.

‘When I look at you, I don’t see anything at all.’ She said finally, quietly.

Her head turned to Martin before the man had a chance to react. Observing the Chief of the Photography department, she saw a glimmer of admiration in his eyes and something else: a question that she felt might always remain unasked. His expression was replaced quickly with his usual hardened mask as he nodded at her. She handed him the photo silently.

‘Nice choice, Belivet.’

There was a pause.

The older man looked over his reading glasses, pointedly, at the blonde journalist, but he chose to say nothing. Martin seemed to swallow his words, repressing them in some faraway place, and continued with the meeting as if nothing had happened.

And like a tide swirling in and out of a cove, the day went on, pivoting between all or nothing, the meaningful and the meaningless, things that would be remembered and things that didn’t deserve a second thought.

*************************************

A knock sounded on the office door as she sat at her desk, typing up some routine office admin documents. It had been a slow day for field assignments, but she hadn’t minded. It gave her precious alone time. Therese turned to see an anxious Dannie, one foot in the room, one foot out.

‘Hey. I, uh, have a telegram for you.’ Dannie said timidly, but he didn’t move.

‘I… I’m sorry about what happened earlier. That wasn’t on, you know. I can’t believe some people.’ He continued.

‘It’s history.’

‘Well, you know I’d beat ‘em up for you if you gave me the word.’ Dannie’s eyes glazed over and darkened, and Therese smiled reassuringly.

‘I know you would.’

The man seemed to puff out his chest slightly, as if somehow that’d make him more threatening. Therese found it endearing.

‘Also, I want you to know that the offer still stands, in case you were wondering. I mean, if you want my help with the situation, in any way I can…’ His words trailed off, drowning out like a train going through a tunnel.

Therese kept silent for a moment, her head tilted to one side, analysing the finer details of her friend’s face. She was thankful for people like him, with kind faces and hearts that never cowered behind anger. She was thankful he wasn’t like Harge.

‘Yes – I mean - we should catch up,’ She blurted out. ‘I have some things to tell you.’

He frowned, walking forward and lowering his head close to hers, as if he were about to initiate a secret conversation. ‘What’s happened? Are you all right?’

‘Yes… No.’ Therese suffocated on her own words, forgetting how to form thought to sound. It would all come out incoherent anyway. ‘I can’t talk about it here, but he…’ She inhaled a sharp breath. ‘He got violent.’

She tried to shoo away the impulsive, recurring anger that sat restlessly in the corner of her mind. Someone had hurt the most precious thing to her. And she wished so desperately that she could have taken all of the pain – the emotional and physical - on Carol’s behalf. She’d take all of it any day just to protect her.

‘ _What_?’ The man exclaimed loudly.

A few heads in the corridor peered through the glass windows to look at them. Dannie forced a tiny smile to satisfy their curiosity. ‘ _Everything’s fine_ ’, the smile tried to say, but Therese doubted anyone would be fully convinced. The figures walked away, going about their conversations and daily tasks.

‘He hurt you?’ Dannie whispered.

‘Not me. Carol.’

The admission of it, the weight of it that dangled low in her chest and grew heavier each day, rose to the surface like an anchor. And the tears came down in waves. Therese accepted Dannie’s arms that circled around her, placing her head on his stomach. She stayed like that, choking on her sobs, until the worst of the storm passed.

‘We’re not gonna let him get away with that, Therese, you hear me?’

His hand rubbed her shoulder in soothing, circular motions, and her breathing began to regulate. But they were distracted by a man yelling outside of the office.

He was calling for Dannie, but the words felt hollow and she couldn’t make sense of them. Her ears seemed to ring, and her mind was in between sorts, underwater and drifting. She registered her friend’s sympathetic look and a promise, perhaps, to talk and fix the situation. Despite wanting to stay, Dannie was left no choice but to walk away. And so, she wallowed alone in silence, unsure of how to tame the unsettled feelings within her.

She wiped her tears away with a handkerchief, grimacing at the black mascara marks that stained the white material. Fiddling with the telegram Dannie had brought, she flipped the seal open and read the message inside.

_Carol tells me you get a lunch break – I’ll be at The Grind around the corner at 1PM. – Abby_

Therese looked at her wristwatch: 12:50PM. She’d leave now, she decided, once she had had a chance to wash her face. Without announcing her leave, she grabbed her bag and rushed to the bathroom to splash her face with cool water.

Ten or so minutes later, she found herself in a quiet café that was a five-minute walk from The Times. The relatively large seating area was empty, bar one person: Abby. The woman was dressed in a checkered brown suit and a yellow neck scarf that complimented her outfit. She sat smoking a cigarette, her face deep in thought, her fingers tapping an indistinguishable rhythm on the table. But when she caught sight of Therese, her expression softened, and her lips curled into a nervous smile.

Therese made her way over, sliding into the booth seat opposite her.

‘Can I get you a drink? Or something to eat?’ Abby asked, trying to catch the attention of the only waiter in the place with her eager eyes.

‘Uh, yes. But just make it a coffee, thank you.’

Abby listed her order to the man quickly and quietly.

When the coffee arrived, steaming hot and bittersweet, Therese suddenly felt calmer. It felt like a warm embrace. Shortly after, the waiter placed a plate with four triangle sandwiches in front of Abby. The older woman pushed them towards Therese slowly, smiling encouragingly.

‘Take them. It looks like you haven’t eaten in days.’

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. Much like Carol, Therese had a habit of forgetting to eat when things felt overwhelming in her head. She shot the woman an apologetic look before eating two sandwiches hungrily, thankful for the sustenance.

‘Thank you.’ She said, brushing some crumbs off her lap once she had finished.

An awkward silence settled between them; Therese realised that she had no real idea of how she was meant to talk to the woman, without Carol, now that the jealously between them had fallen away. It felt like she was making her acquaintance all over again. And she’d never been good with small talk.

‘How have you been?’ Abby asked.

‘Good question. How have I been?’ The question didn’t have a real answer. It hung suspended in the air, out of place and untouched.

Abby let out a breathy laugh. ‘I know what you mean. This isn’t an easy life, is it? And I suppose you’re new to it all.’

‘How do you mean?’ Therese creased her eyebrows defensively and placed her mug down on the table with a _thud_.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to patronise you.’ The woman’s face contorted as if she was scolding herself for her words. ‘What I mean to say is, this life – _our_ life – it’s not straightforward. It’s a difficult path for me to navigate, even now, and I’ve known I’ve been fond of women since I was a young girl.’ Abby laughed. ‘You know, when I was five year’s old, I used to run after Nancy O’Brien in the playground because I wanted her to notice me. She once threw water in my face to get rid of me – I can’t say I blame her, I was a devilish child and rather persistent.’

The older woman’s eyes seem to drift off into another time. She took a drag of her cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. And then the memory was gone. ‘I think, and forgive me if I’m making a bold assumption, you haven’t always known. Have you?’

Therese held Abby’s eyes, thinking. There was Sister Alicia, the nun at her Catholic school whom she’d always felt strangely fond of, and there’d been that feminine boy with the unruly hair that Therese thought she’d had an attraction to when she was young. And, in between, now that she reflected on it, there were girls in her classes who had made her blush and stumble over her words. And beautiful women that passed her on the street that had make her stop in her tracks.

But she hadn’t truly known attraction or love until Carol. No one had set off that spark within her until their eyes had met in December. Ever since, she hadn’t been able to lock this newfound part of her back inside. And it felt strange to realise that it had only been seven or eight months since she and Carol had met. A lifetime had passed in that time, Therese thought, but she was grateful for it. It was a wonderful thing, to know and love Carol. And she wished for many more lifetimes with her.

‘Not until Carol.’ She said.

‘I thought as much.’ The woman smiled genuinely.

They shared a knowing look and stopped for a moment to take another drink.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Therese questioned abruptly. Something had been playing on her mind.

‘Fire away.’

‘Earlier at work, a journalist said something awful about a man I’d photographed.’ Therese let out an exasperated sigh. ‘He assumed he was homosexual, but also a communist… Why?’

Abby extended an arm across the table and held Therese’s hands that were clasped together. She gave her an empathetic smile, her eyes conveying something that felt like love and respect and pity all at once.

‘It’s a tough world. You don’t need me to tell you that.’ She began cautiously. ‘Particularly in the last couple of years… McCarthy, the government, they hound down people like us. They place us in categories and make monsters of us. It’s easier for them to throw underprivileged people under the bus, to make them public enemies, to have scapegoats in case the masses revolt… Are you with me so far?’

Therese nodded, listening intently.

‘They won’t let people of our persuasions hold positions of power… or have anything at all, really, not freely. There are truly people out there who think homosexuals are so mentally deranged they’re in the same running as communists, or perverts – or any of America’s enemies. It’s ruined careers, destroyed families, encouraged hatred.’ Abby sucked in a sharp breath, as if she had felt physical pain. And Therese didn’t doubt that she’d witnessed enough prejudice in her years to last a lifetime.

‘As I say, it’s a hard life.’

She took her hand away from Therese’s and reached for another cigarette subconsciously. It was funny how she and Carol seemed to share the same coping mechanisms and habits, Therese mused. The woman offered her a roll and she took it gratefully, allowing Abby to light it for her.

‘But if the world hates us so much, what on earth can we do for Carol? And Rindy, too, for that matter.’ Therese said halfheartedly, almost choking on her cigarette.

‘Well, that’s just the hell of it. What can we do without hurting Carol, or putting you and your career at risk? If anyone catches wind that you’re not…’ Abby shut her mouth and gestured a hand to her in a wave-like movement. ‘You’d be out like a shot. Yesterday’s news.’

They smoked in silence for a moment, sombrely, thinking of the situation at hand.

‘Carol doesn’t want to pursue anything. Maybe that’s why.’ Therese said blankly, as if in a daydream. And, she supposed, even if they went down the route of filing a domestic assault charge, Harge could twist it in his favour. She didn’t doubt that he’d go ahead with the allegations he continuously threatened them with.

It hurt Therese to think that a violent, abusive man would probably be treated better by the law than the two of them, in love and hurting no one in the process. Therese wondered how they could hurt him enough to cut him loose. At this point, they’d happily take regular visits with Rindy over shared custody: anything was better than nothing at all. Anything was better than having their livelihood prodded with a stick, forced into a cage.

‘Perhaps. But she’s also as stubborn as a mule.’

The two women laughed in spite of the state of affairs, but it was cut short by the waiter who came to collect their empty cups and plates. The smiles on their faces faded away. And they didn’t speak again until the man left.

‘I don’t think I can sit and do nothing, Abby. Not anymore.’

‘Well, you’re not alone there.’

The younger woman opened and closed her mouth, preparing herself for the confession she was about to make.

‘I don’t want Harge to suffer, but I don’t want to keep playing nicely. It’s not working.’

‘You’re a better person than I,’ Abby said, smiling, ‘I’d tear that brute to shreds if I got the chance.’ 

Therese smiled in response and the weight in her chest lifted a little. The woman before her loved Carol so ferociously, in a different way to her of course, and it felt nice to share.

‘Does she know you’re here with me?’

‘No, actually. I called her earlier and she said she was worried about you. She worries.’ The woman took another drag of her cigarette. ‘I thought I’d come and make sure you’re alright, seeing as we’re friendly now.’

A blush coloured Therese’s cheeks as she recalled how jealous and petty she had once been to the woman. Although, admittedly, it had been a two-way street.

‘Yes. I suppose we are friends now.’ Therese echoed warmly.

Both women stubbed out their cigarettes in synchronisation, the air between them suddenly feeling clearer and comfortable.

‘Hadn’t you better get back to work?’ Abby asked, glancing at her watch.

They’d been at the café for forty minutes now – ten minutes over Therese’s allocated lunch time. And although she was certain no one would miss her, she didn’t want to risk getting into trouble.

‘Damnit.’ Therese hissed, sliding across the bench seat and grabbing her bag. ‘I’m sorry I have to run off.’

Abby looked at her bemusedly whilst grounding her cigarette into an ashtray. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was good to see you, Therese.’

The younger woman shot her a quick smile before turning away, but Abby gently grabbed her wrist, stopping her. ‘Talk to Carol about this, all right?’ She said.

Therese nodded, her face serious, and ducked down to give the woman a quick, unexpected hug.

‘Thank you, Abby.’ She called out behind her as she jogged out of the building, leaving some of the weight of her burdens behind. And as she returned to her desk, of which was stacked high with new documents for her to file through, she suddenly felt less alone in the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's approaching 2am in the UK and I need to sleep. Gotta be up for work in five hours... yikes.
> 
> I hope you all have wonderful days, wherever you are and whatever you do. Here's a friendly reminder to buy the rest of your xmas presents if you haven't already!


	16. Chapter sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I hastily posting this at 1:00AM on Christmas day (UK time)? Yes. Why? Not sure. Am I drunk? ...Yes. Am I happy with what I've written? Unsure. I'll let you guys be the judges of that. This chapter was a hard one.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Therese rushed across the pavement, dodging other men and women who were making their way back to their homes and families, too. She was eager to walk through her apartment door, shed off her work clothes and unwind for the rest of the evening. The thought itself filled her with a burst of energy and excitement.

Coming home after work had never felt as sweet as it did now that she lived with Carol. Every evening, every morning, and every weekend was suddenly so precious to her. She no longer wished away time, hoping for the next best thing to come along; instead, Therese kept the small, everyday moments close to her chest, pocketing them and locking them away. They were her little happy secrets to keep, to look back on when she needed them.

She smiled to herself, looking down at her arms that were carefully cradling a bouquet of pink peonies that she’d bought from a local florist only moment’s prior. In her bag, she had stashed away a bottle of red wine that she knew Carol liked. As she walked against the afternoon breeze, the botanical smells of the flowers wound their way upwards, filling her senses. And, in spite of everything, her spirits felt higher than they had done in weeks.

Therese kept her head focused on the rapid movements of her feet as she turned mechanically around a corner. Her mind was floating about, in a dream, imagining what the rest of the night might have in store. As a result, she didn’t hear the shrill, squealing voice that called out her name through the dispersing crowds.

‘ _Therese_!’ The voice sounded again, louder this time and closer, too.

Her reverie was broken when she heard the light pitter-patter of feet, followed by heavier, restrained steps. Her head twisted over her shoulder to see a young girl running speedily towards her.

It was Rindy.

And, behind her, a disgruntled Harge.

Therese was rendered immobile by shock, her feet glued to the ground. Was it really them? The three of them were only a five-minute walk from the Madison Avenue flat, and she was sure Hargess was aware of that. So, why were they here? And what were the odds they’d run into each another?

She attempted to smile at Rindy, but try as she might, she couldn’t assert control over her emotions.

Love and hatred battled against each another inside her as her eyes flitted between the two. Love, of course, for Carol’s high-spirited daughter, Rindy, and hatred beyond comprehension for Harge. Hatred for the intrusive things he had done in January, hatred for the despicable and inexcusable way he had treated Carol, but - most of all - hatred simply for the nature of the man. He was a person who allowed himself to be ruled and consumed by his negative emotions. It irked her.

She dared to glance at Harge. His face was unreadable, and it caused her hatred to warp into blind panic. Therese’s blood ran cold.

Although she hadn’t purposefully run into Rindy and her father, she knew that this was against Harge’s “conditions”. He had made it clear that he didn’t want her anywhere near his daughter countless times and yet here she was, stood only a few feet away from her. She wanted to hug the girl, to make sure she was safe and alright, but she had to bat away her instincts and restrain herself.

Even then, she wondered, if she kept to herself, would he still contact his lawyer? Would he use this against her even though it wasn’t her doing? Therese swallowed the rising lump in her throat. Her head felt like a ticking bomb about to explode.

‘Hey, Therese!’ Rindy shouted again for the third time. She was held back by the firm grip of her father’s hands on her shoulders. ‘Where’ve you been?’

She shot a stern, challenging look at Harge before bending down to meet the girl at her eye level. The question would have to be answered in a round-about way, Therese decided. A girl as young as six wouldn’t understand the complexities of the situation and she didn’t want to upset her. ‘I’ve just finished work, actually.’ She smiled. ‘How are you?’

Rindy’s expression twisted in thought. ‘Tired.’ She said decidedly, nodding her head for emphasis and rubbing the back of a balled hand across her eyes. ‘Daddy took me along to his busy meetings.’

‘ _Business_ meetings.’ Harge corrected gruffly, avoiding the intensity of Therese’s stare. ‘Come on, pumpkin, let’s go home.’ He gently pulled Rindy back by the shoulders, but she pretended not to hear, yanking herself away and stepping further towards Therese.

‘Pretty flowers.’ Rindy observed, her eyes sparkling in interest. ‘Who are they for?’

Therese had forgotten she was holding them.

‘You think so? I like them too.’ She said, offering Rindy a cheerful smile. ‘I bought them for your Mommy.’

Harge’s nostrils flared. His eyes shot open, burning with something – a threat - she chose to ignore. The man had no authority over her, especially not out in the open, surrounded by people. To hell with it, Therese thought, he could do or think what he liked.

‘She needs cheering up. Someone upset her recently and she’s been a bit blue ever since.’ Therese continued, her gaze now locking back onto Harge, pointedly.

Rindy’s youthful face seemed to radiate with a sadness that was beyond her years. And, for a moment, Therese wished she hadn’t alluded to anything at all. The last thing she wanted to do was make the girl worry.

‘Mommy,’ Rindy whispered sadly, longingly. ‘Who upset Mommy? I’ll tell them off.’

Her heart constricted in her chest. She felt it sink into the pit of her stomach.

‘We’re leaving now,’ Harge spat, and Therese wondered if his abrupt words and downturned head were an attempt to mask shame. And did he realise how wrong his actions were? If only his daughter knew what he’d done, she wondered, would he change his ways? Would he regret leaving bruises on Carol’s arms and treating her so poorly?

She shut her eyelids as she felt her stomach ache again. _The bruises_. She couldn’t rid them from her mind. And now she was here, stood in front of the cause of her lover’s pain.

The urge to yell something or throw the man to the nearest wall was overwhelmingly hard to ignore. It felt cowardly to leave the man unscathed, to not defend her partner. But she couldn’t, no matter how much she might want to, even without Carol’s daughter present. It wouldn’t make matters any better and, as much as she hated to admit it, the man loved his daughter. She couldn’t bear witnessing the girl lose another parent.

‘Don’t worry, it’s nobody worth thinking about… She’s okay.’ Therese said gently. ‘I promise.’

There was a pause. Therese let her eyes flitter down to the flowers that were loosely held in her hands. Guilt built like a crescendo within her chest when she realised she was seeing Carol’s daughter without her. She wondered what the woman would do, or say, had she been with them. And she wondered what she’d want Therese to say.

Therese made the decision to trust her instinct.

‘Your mom loves you and misses you so much.’ Her hands gripped the stems of the peonies tightly as she found the strength to say her next words. She imagined Carol’s hand on her shoulder, encouraging her. ‘In fact… I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind taking you to see her now, would you, Harge?’

The man’s face contorted in fury, but he bit it down, containing it for later. Therese had cornered him and bent him to her will. And she knew it’d be hard for him to ignore the jumping, happy squeals coming from his daughter. He couldn’t deny the wishes of the only thing in the world he truly loved, could he?

Harge locked his jaw and released a shaking breath through his nose. He lifted his watch to his face before mumbling something unintelligible to himself.

‘Please, Daddy?’ Rindy begged, her words stretching out into a whine. Her small hands tugged at the bottom of his large, brown coat.

Therese knew from his resigned expression that he wasn’t going to say no.

‘Fine. Ten minutes.’ He said, pulling out a pair of gloves from his pocket and slipping them onto his hands.

While Rindy bounced in excitement, Harge leant in dangerously close to Therese’s ear. She could feel the heat emitting from his flushed cheeks and hot breath. ‘Don’t think you’re coming, shop girl.’ He whispered between gritted teeth.

Therese jerked her head away.

‘It’s my apartment, too.’ She bit back. ‘And you’ve agreed to come. So, call your lawyer if you’d like, but I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate his time wasted.’ It had shut him up for now.

They soon fell into an uncomfortable, dense silence as they walked alongside each other. Rindy was in front of them, a few paces ahead, skipping along and leading the way, blissfully unaware. But the quietness only helped to build tension between them, thickening the air so that it was hard to breathe. Their minds were painfully aware of only each other and it incited Therese’s skin to crawl. Her fingers twinged beside her, her shoulders rising up by her ears. She felt as if she were prey attempting to hide from a predator in plain sight. Despite the streets swarming with cars and people, all she could hear was Harge’s breathing and the painful squeaking of his leather gloves as he flexed his hands. Every noise made her tremor.

‘This won’t happen again.’ Harge muttered. ‘I have full custody. I make the rules.’

He made his daughter sound like a chess piece. _She’s not yours to rule_ , Therese wanted to say, _she’s not yours to control_.

‘And what about Rindy? You say you’re doing this for her, but shouldn’t she have a say, too?’

‘She’s six.’

‘Yes. And she loves her mother.’

Harge stopped walking for a moment, taking the time to compose himself. She imagined he knew. Rindy must remind him regularly how much she missed her mother.

‘I’ve said it before, goddamnit. This isn’t any of your business.’

‘It is.’ Thersese seethed.

‘No.’ He laughed mockingly. ‘It isn’t. I know what’s best.’

‘And I suppose you knew what was best when you hurt Carol?’ She asked, her voice growing louder, although still out of Rindy’s earshot. ‘How dare you pretend to hold anyone’s best interest at heart but your own.’

‘Keep your mouth _shut_.’ He snapped.

‘I won’t. You don’t scare me.’

Without warning, Harge shot a hand to her wrist and gripped it tightly, his face turning to meet hers threateningly. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling slowly as if gearing himself up for a physical fight. Therese jolted her arm away, staring him down, her eyes unblinking. She swallowed the fear down. She found the strength to push it deep below her inherent need to love and protect.

‘You can’t help yourself, can you?’ She sneered. ‘If it wasn’t for Rindy, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near Carol.’

The man paused for a moment, sulking to himself, before changing the subject sharply. ‘I don’t want someone like you near my daughter. God knows what you’d do to her.’ He said.

She was fed up of ignorance. She was fed up of being made to feel like a monster. She took a deep breath and willed away the instinct to cry.

‘Do I look threatening to you?’ Therese asked quietly, locking her eyes with Harge’s. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never thrown a punch, I’ve never said anything out of hand. Can you say the same for yourself?’

Harge didn’t respond.

‘I thought as much.’

They soon approached the last stretch of their journey; the apartment was now in sight. Therese felt an odd sense of relief, knowing that she wouldn’t have to be alone with the man anymore.

But, before they arrived at the revolving doors, she murmured one last thing to him. ‘We’re not asking for full custody. We just want to see Rindy. And we _will_ find a way to see her, no matter what it takes, because _she_ wants to see _us_ and she needs her mother.’

‘Is that a threat?’

There was a beat of silence.

‘Yes.’

Harge opened the revolving door for Rindy as she hopped in, enthusiastically pushing the glass panel as if it were a game. The two adults followed, soundlessly, neither having the energy to say anymore. And what else was left to say that _could_ be said?

As they exited the elevator on Carol’s floor, Therese handed Rindy the bouquet of peonies. ‘How about you give these to her, huh?’ The girl beamed, holding the flowers above her head as if she reveled in the responsibility. Or, perhaps like Therese, the thought of simply making Carol smile made her happier than anything else.

A rush of excitement coursed through Therese as she imagined Carol’s reaction at seeing the girl. And, surely enough, when she opened the door, her face illuminated with surprise. A hand flung to the woman’s mouth, concealing a gasp, and she all but fell to her knees to hug and kiss her daughter, tears swimming in her eyes. Carol was so overwhelmed, in fact, Therese wasn’t fully sure if she’d registered herself or Harge standing mere paces away.

‘Mommy, look! Pretty flowers just for you.’ Rindy exclaimed, thrusting the wrapped bouquet into her mother’s arms.

‘Oh, aren’t they beautiful? Thank you, sweetheart, I-’ Carol paused, overcome. ‘Where did you get these from?’

‘Therese, of course! Daddy and I met her outside.’ She said proudly.

Carol looked up, searching for confirmation in Therese’s green eyes. The brunette nodded and gave her a small, unsure smile. Was this the right thing to have done?

‘We won’t stay long.’ Harge grumbled from outside the apartment door.

But Carol neither looked at him nor acknowledged his words. Whether it was out of fear or anger, Therese couldn’t tell. Instead, her attention was solely on Rindy, the other love of her life; the girl who she had been missing so terribly. She unfolded her legs to stand up and guided the young girl inside, instinctively pouring her a glass of water and pinching a few cookies from a jar to place on a plate for her.

The mother and daughter spoke animatedly on one of the teal sofas, their arms wrapped around one another. Although Therese wanted to go to them, to fit seamlessly amongst the two as she knew she could, she knew not to push her luck any further than she already had with Harge present. So, instead, she looked on lovingly, admiring the glimmering openness in Carol’s face and the excited gestures of Rindy’s arms as she filled her mother in on the stories she had missed in the last few weeks. They seemed to be bounce off one another, like a reflection delayed by time: old and young, and yet the same.

‘So, you live here permanently now?’ Harge uttered behind Therese. His breathy voice made the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Her hands tightened into fists. She was tired of him talking.

‘Yes.’ Therese replied curtly.

‘And you think that’s appropriate for Rindy?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

He hummed in response.

As much as she didn’t want to let the man to get to her, she couldn’t fight the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, the churning that came from knowing how close he was. Therese took a couple of steps towards Carol and Rindy. They were her safety; they made her fearless.

Rindy stretched her neck up and found her eyes and, before she could register what was happening, the girl was in front of her. One arm clung to her leg, keeping her stuck in place.

‘Come help us!’ She demanded, pulling Therese along.

Hargess followed closely behind, like an obedient guard dog on alert.

The girl guided Therese next to Carol, telling her to sit down with a swift movement of her hand. Therese smiled despite herself; Rindy really was a miniature version of Carol. The child was fierce and stubborn, passionate and loving, and she commanded a room like the sun commanded life – radiant, nurturing, powerful in its own beautiful way. She couldn’t help but think of how the girl might grow and the person she’d become. And Therese wondered if she herself would have any influence on that person.

Would they still care for one another in five years’ time, or a lifetime?

‘Which one do I want in my room?’ Rindy questioned, pointing at some sketches on the living room table. In one, she’d drawn a blindingly colourful mermaid bathing on a rock; in another, a dog fetching a ball in a grassy park; and, strangely, in the last picture, she’d sketched a green train speeding through a countryside full of houses and happy faces.

Therese pondered for a moment, thinking back on the train set she’d sold Carol at Christmas. Did Rindy still play with it even now?

‘Rindy’s put a lot of thought into them, haven’t you, darling?’ Carol fussed, stroking her daughter's hair.

‘Well, I think they’re all brilliant. Which do you like best?’ Therese asked, smiling down at the crayon drawings. She felt Carol’s eyes on her, love seeping out, caressing her skin, cloaking her.  

‘You’ll be painting it with me, Mommy says! You choose!’

‘All right then.’ She pretended to think hard about the decision, _umming_ and _ahhing_ into a hand that covered her mouth. ‘I think the train. What do you think?’

Before Rindy could respond, Harge intercepted their space, interrupted the conversation.

‘I think that’s enough,’ he bellowed. ‘We’re leaving now, Rindy. This isn’t your home.’

Rindy looked as if she might burst into tears on the spot. And Therese couldn’t bear to watch it. In spite of Harge’s menacing presence, she dared to place a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder to sooth her and calm her down. Carol shot her a look of encouragement.

But, upon observing her action, the man hoisted his daughter away. Without saying a word, Harge quickly carried her out of the apartment in a blur. The door slammed behind them. Silence fell once more.

******************************

Later that evening, the two women curled up alongside one another in their double bed. Carol brushed a hand up Therese’s waist and to her shoulder, tracing the outline of her, and kissed her longingly on the lips.

‘Well, that was one hell of a day.’ Carol said, almost exasperatedly. Her lips twinged into a sad smile.

After Harge had left, Therese recounted the situation, detailing the conversation she had had with the man on the walk to the apartment. And, together, they mourned the disappearance of Rindy once more, unsure of when they'd see her again. 

‘Yes... Are you all right?’

‘I’ll be okay. I’m glad to have seen Rindy, even if it was short lived... Thank you for swaying him to bring her here.’

‘Hmm.’ Therese bit her lip in thought. ‘But I wish I could have _done_ something. Something more, I mean.’

Carol looked at her sympathetically and brushed a hand across her cheek.

‘You did more than enough, darling.’

‘No… He didn’t get what he deserved. I could have hit him on the spot for what he did to you, Carol. I _should_ have.’ She whispered, her eyes overflowing with fresh tears, her lips quivering against her will. She squinted her eyes shut, battling against her internalised pain. ‘How could anyone ever hurt you?’

A thumb traced over her bottom lip. Carol’s forehead rested against hers, like an anchor holding her feet to the ground, stopping the world from turning. The dizziness that swam in her head, urging on her tears, stilled briefly.

‘I’m all right, Therese. I have you.’

She sniffed, observing the lightness and warmth of Carol’s face. In that moment, Therese thought her heart might burst with the love she felt for the woman.

‘I’ll never leave you alone with him again.’ She said decidedly.

And Carol smiled, her eyes glistening as her laugh lines crinkled. ‘My guardian angel, flung out of space.’ She murmured, leaning in to kiss Therese’s lips that were wet with tears.

They stayed like that for a while, clinging desperately to one another, until Therese felt her mood shift.

She thought back to Dannie and his promises to help her, as well as Abby’s words of reassurance. She thought of Harge’s livid face and spitting words. And she thought of Carol. Loving, beautiful Carol, who deserved so much more than life had given her.

‘Carol?’

‘Yes?’

‘I want to fight back, I think. Against Harge.’ Therese dragged out her words slowly and cautiously. ‘If you want to, too, that is.’

Carol lifted her head upwards before moving it further away from Therese on the pillow. She looked at her incredulously, her eyebrows furrowing, as she waited for Therese to elaborate.

‘Dannie… Offered to help. Maybe to build a case, or something like that.’ She stuttered. ‘And I know Abby would help out where she can. I’m fed up of Harge treating you this way because of me... Things seem to be getting worse.’

‘We’re not angry, resentful people. And I don’t want to put your livelihood at ris-’

‘No. But we have to fight for Rindy.’ Therese interrupted. She stilled for a few seconds as emotion overcame her. ‘Don’t we?’

Carol fell silent, her eyelids closing slowly. And when she reopened them, her expression had hardened in a determined sort of way.

‘I suppose so.’

‘Think about it, will you?’ Therese asked pleadingly, her eyes seeking an answer that she wasn’t sure Carol would give her. Nevertheless, she herself was adamant about fixing the situation, even if her lover wanted no active role in it.

‘I promise I’ll think about it,’ she said.

And Therese knew that that was the end of the conversation for the time being.

‘Oh, and before I forget - thank you for the beautiful flowers.’ Carol cooed, changing the subject matter. ‘And the wine, too.’

‘It’s no problem.’ Therese blushed.

‘Well, you’re very wonderful to me.’

Carol’s fingers moved from Therese’s shoulder to her breast, and then downwards, caressing the skin around her stomach and lower.

Therese kissed her in response, shifting her body forward so that their skin was flush. She wound a hand through blonde locks and to the back of Carol’s neck, pulling her closer. And Carol placed one of her hands firmly on Therese’s hips, her fingernails sinking in slightly as Therese positioned a leg firmly between hers.

‘You’re magnificent.’ Therese murmured, nestling her nose against her lover’s, her green eyes seeking Carol’s grey ones. ‘Have I ever told you that?’

‘Once or twice, I believe.’ The woman smiled, rolling Therese onto her back before tracing her lips down her body, sending her nerve endings into a pleasurable, terrifying overdrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to correct any mistakes (I have port brain. And beer brain. And gin brain.) 
> 
> On a separate note, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. And, if you don't celebrate either/or, I hope you have a lovely time, regardless. I understand that this season can be a little overwhelming, lonely, and full of societal pressures, so if any of you need anything at all, please hit me up. 
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that your love, support and kind words this year have meant so much to me. This fic was originally intended to be a one-shot, but I'm so glad I've kept it going.
> 
> Best wishes - and stuff your faces!  
> Claire


	17. Chapter seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...... this is what happens when you're an emotional wreck (like me), enjoy self-indulging yourself, and get carried away.
> 
> enjoy (maybe?)! idk! i'm so tired fml.

Therese stirred in her sleep, waking groggily to the sensation of fingers trailing light pathways through her hair. Although the attention was welcome, she still desired more rest. So, after turning her head into the pillow, she moaned softly, her mouth agape as she attempted to fall asleep once more. The stroking movements then stopped and, even in her sleep-induced state, she became aware that she was now completely alone. The slight dip in the mattress had vanished, the waft of the deep perfume that smelt of green moss and myrrh and clementine faded; the only rhythmic rise and fall of breathing was her own. Therese fell unconscious for a second time, missing the distant, but comforting, company of Carol.

She dreamt she was lost in a jungle of dark greens and purples, breezing past tree after tree, her shoes squelching in bizarre mushrooms and thick, soupy mud. The sky was barely visible behind large, fanned leaves and towering black shadows that dominated everything. It was becoming claustrophobic. She couldn’t understand if she was running to or from someone. And, so, Therese kept up her pace, finding herself running circles into the mud, staring at the same crumbling bark and tangled vines that looked like maimed limbs. The floor seemed to shake, sending shocks up her legs. Acting fast, she ran for the nearest cover she could find: a dark, indefinite cave with a circular entrance.

It was a tight fit. She fell to her hands and knees and crawled forward for what felt like hours. Her eyes were useless. Her hands and knees were damp with her own blood. The heavy breaths escaping her mouth echoed around her, and she thought they might drive her mad. But a white spec filtered into her vision; a light from up ahead, growing as she moved closer.

Suddenly her eyes were graced with the expanse of a bright blue sky and, below, exotics fruits and bulbous flowers in yellows and pinks and oranges. The ground was dry and luscious, and a stream ran steadily through the grass. And then she saw her, sat on a picnic blanket with her daughter in her lap, her blonde hair illuminated by the sun. Carol looked at her as if to say, ‘ _Where have you been and what took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you my whole life_.’

Therese stood up and looked at her knees that were now miraculously free of blood. Tentatively, she walked towards the woman, smiling. ‘ _I’ll never turn back_ ,’ she wanted to say, ‘ _You’ve got me now_.’

The two women embraced, and Therese thought they might somehow freeze like that, immortalised in time, becoming part of the earth, as beautiful as their surroundings.

The creaking of a door and the patter of bare feet made Therese jolt in her sleep, her eyes opening slightly in reaction. The peculiar dream was already slipping between her fingers like sand, fading back into her subconscious. She was hit with the strong, bitter smell of coffee that teased her fully awake, her head suddenly and instinctively craving the caffeine. Therese yawned and sat up a little. She looked sleepily at Carol, who was gradually fading into focus through her squinted eyelids.

Carol handed her the mug of steaming coffee before tilting Therese’s head up by the chin with two fingers. She gave her a quick kiss, a smile toying on her lips, and then sat down on the edge of the double bed.

‘I had the strangest dream.’ Therese mumbled.

‘Oh?’

‘I was in a jungle, I think. It was dark and alive – the ground was shaking. I crawled through a cave and found you having a picnic with Rindy.’

She laughed at how absurd it sounded and shook her head. Carol only looked on lovingly, understandingly, her grey eyes receptive to her every word.

Therese took a long, warming sip of the drink before asking, ‘Anyway. What time is it?’ Her voice was gravelly.

Carol smiled with her teeth now, a laugh tilting on the edge in her eyes, ready to spill out from her mouth into sound.

’11:30, darling.’

’ _11:30_! Carol, why didn’t you wake me?’ Therese exclaimed, horrified.

She flung a corner of the duvet to one side, revealing the area from the top of her waist to the bottom of her thighs. Carol rested a hand on one of her legs when she tried to exit the bed, stopping her.

‘I tried, but I think you needed the rest. And, besides… You’re very sweet when you’re asleep. It’s difficult to disturb you.’ Carol cooed, leaning in to kiss her again. A hand brushed her cheek and swiped backwards, over her ear, to touch her hair. ‘I like what you’ve done with your hair.’

Therese peered into the mirror atop the vanity so she could understand what Carol had meant. Upon seeing her static hair that was frizzing outwards in all directions, she covered her face with her hands. She groaned slightly to herself, red dots colouring her cheeks. Carol chuckled, heartily, as she attempted to smooth down Therese’s unruly hair.

‘You’re in a good mood this morning,’ Therese observed, taking another drink from her mug to conceal her embarrassment.

Carol’s eyes seemed to dance, flitting seamlessly between humour and happiness. She had a youthful sort of excitement about her. ‘Yes. Look what came.’

She handed Therese a leaf of paper that was folded up into a neat square. Her fingers flipped it open to find a printed, unfilled form – it looked very official, with a legal signature and crest adorning the bottom of the page. For a moment, Therese thought it might have had something to do with Harge and Rindy, perhaps something to do with appealing against their custody arrangement. However, although it did loosely have some ties to Harge, it wasn’t at all what she was expecting. In fact, the form had somewhat blindsided her. She blinked rapidly to check she wasn’t imagining things, but the words on the page remained the same.

‘You’re changing your name?’ Therese asked incredulously.

The woman nodded, her grin widening.

‘Finally. I meant to tell you, but I’d forgotten all about it. I filed for the form months ago, but you know how slow these things are. Anyway, I just have to fill it in, pay a fee and hand it to a courtroom clerk.’

She gave her lover a look that was a mixture of awe and confusion. Carol had been Carol Aird for as long as Therese had known her, and even longer before that. And, although she disliked the woman’s unfortunate and lingering association with Harge, she thought she’d always know her as such. It was something that would take some getting used to. She couldn’t help but think the memory - the ritual of saying the word like a prayer - was fading on her tongue, rewriting history. That name had meant the world and more to her. It felt like changing religion.

‘What are you going to change it to?’

‘My maiden name. Ross.’ Carol said simply, but she didn’t seem overly happy about it. While her lips were still smiling, the corners faltered slightly, twitching as if they had more to say on the matter. No one else would have noticed it, but Therese knew the woman well enough by now to interpret the finer details.

‘Carol Ross…’ She murmured to herself. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Freedom at last. But all this fuss, not to mention the fee to change it, only to settle back on Ross - I feel like a child again. Though I suppose anything’s better than sharing Harge’s name.’

Carol took back the form and eyed it again carefully.

‘What else would you want to change it to? You don’t have to stick with your maiden name.’

Her eyes fluttered up, catching Therese’s in a longing, significant gaze. It reminded her of the intense look she had given her in the dream. Carol thoughts were loud, yet unintelligible and unpredictable, hanging in the air like the first drop of rain after a long drought, dangling precariously off the tip of a bough. There was a weighted wait, a period of stillness, the clean sheet of a lake at dawn. And then it fell, sending a small ripple through Therese, altering the makeup of everything they’d built together.

‘Well, you know I’ve always been fond of your name, but I don’t think we can afford any more reasons for scrutiny.’

She’d said it so simply, as if it had been the most natural answer – the only answer. There was a lilt of humour in her words, but Therese could see through it; she was being genuine and trying to mask it.

And Therese became suddenly aware that she’d never thought of merging the both of them together in that way before. It wasn’t something women like them did. They didn’t have the luxury or the means to take one another’s names, or to take their commitment to a higher, legal level.

Carol Belivet, her name would be, if she were to choose her surname. _Carol Belivet_.

It was foreign, uncertain and strange-sounding, but as she chanted it in her head, she could taste its sweetness like thick, golden honey. It was addictive, and it caused her stomach to twist in a warm, tender way. Was it selfish to want Carol to take that piece of her? Would she do it if she asked?

Therese had never thought much of her own name. After all, her family were practically non-existent: a distant, painful memory that she chose to close off. The name had been hers and hers alone for such a long time; something she used to pay bills and fill in forms, a mechanical greeting when she met new people. But the thought of Carol sharing it with her gave it some meaning. It felt like the building blocks of something bigger and stronger, made of love.

Therese couldn’t get the idea out of her head. She almost wished Carol had never mentioned it.

‘Did I make you uncomfortable?’ Carol questioned nervously, a frown creasing her forehead.

It was only then that Therese became aware that she’d been silent, her mouth hanging open in surprise, for some time. She shook away her daze and tried to string a thought together.

‘No, of course not. I just… Uh… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.’

It came out dumbly. Pathetically, almost. She released a sharp, jagged breath, pausing to think of something better to say. Therese stared at her hands that clasped and twisted and turned together anxiously.

‘I didn’t think you’d want that. Sharing names… That’s for married couples and we can’t – um – you know.’ She continued timidly, immediately scolding herself for bringing marriage into the equation. She didn’t dare look at Carol.

An awkward silence fell between them. They waited patiently for it to be broken, but it felt like they were two children, each waiting for the other to kick a ball first and start the game. Only in this case, the game was unknown. It always had been.

As much as their relationship was fundamentally like any other, it was also entirely different - there were no manuals, or readily available and accurate representation in the media to refer to. They couldn’t place expectations on it. No. Instead, they walked together, hand-in-hand and blindfolded, down a path not many felt brave enough to document. It wasn’t always a bad thing, of course; it served to bring them closer together.

They were finding their feet and testing unexplored, far-off places every day, each full of its own obstacles and blissful oases. It was to be expected, but it still gave Therese some anxiety. They’d encountered something new, now, and she couldn’t tell if it was made or good or bad stuff. It hazed between them like a mirage, indistinguishable, translucent.

Only one thought whirled endlessly around her head.

She couldn’t marry Carol.

And it stung like holding a rose. It was beautiful to look at, and beautiful to imagine, but sometimes the most beautiful of things could bite and draw blood. Especially when they weren’t meant to be grasped by people of her nature. It was something unobtainable, passing her by: a rosebush at the bottom of a garden, its thorns hidden behind luscious green leaves.

Would she want to marry Carol, if it were permitted, she wondered? But she already knew the answer. It beat in her chest.

And anyway, what was the point in thinking about it? Why were they even talking about this at all?

Minutes seemed to pass by torturously, until Carol finally spoke.

‘No. No, we can’t.’

Therese sunk her head backwards into her pillow. Out of all the words she could have said, Carol had chosen to only reiterate her own.

‘I’m sick to death of marriage.’ The woman continued. She looked down at her lap, though her eyes were focusing on something unseen.

It made Therese want to disappear. Of _course_ Carol was sick of marriage – she’d been through enough in the past eight years with Harge to put her off the concept altogether. And with everything that had happened within the last few months, could she really expect her to think otherwise? Was it any wonder she was sick of it?

Her lover had only mentioned her last name because she was fond of it, the same way she was fond of it the first time they’d had dinner together. Therese chided herself internally, once again embarrassed that she’d broached the subject. Of all the things to talk about, she’d decided to heave up something heavy and obstructive.

Therese felt solemn, her head pointing up at the ceiling. Her heart was pumping slowly and painfully.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’

‘For bringing marriage up. I shouldn’t have.’

There was a beat of silence. Carol’s hand slid to her left hand, her thumb and index finger landing upon the ring she’d given Therese. She twisted it around, her touch feather-light as she absentmindedly played with the adorned small sapphires that looked like deep pools of water.

‘Don’t be sorry, Therese. What I meant to say was… I’m sick to death of marriage, but I would do it again for you.’

Therese shifted her head back down, her eyes growing wider. She looked at Carol, noticing how shy the woman had become. It reminded her of their meeting at The Ritz in April and the way Carol’s face had almost crumbled at the thought of Therese’s rejection. Even now, if she thought hard, she could still feel the wavering torrents between them before Carol had confessed her love.

‘You would?’

It came out as barely a whisper. She’d forgotten how to breathe properly. Her heart raced beneath her chest, threatening to burst out of her.

In the back of her mind, she briefly remembered Richard’s proposal to her and how it had conjured nothing but apathy. How funny it was that the same words could cause different reactions when they came from different people.

Carol nodded her head slowly. ‘Yes, darling.’

‘But we can’t.’

‘I know.’

In spite of their current battles with Harge and the state of the world, sometimes it was easy to forget that their relationship wasn’t perceived as equal. Or legal. They spent so much time in their heads, cushioned by their love, that they forgot the harshness of life itself.

She thought about her dream and the darkened jungle that twisted itself around her, strangling her, taking the breath from her lungs. And Therese wondered if perhaps that jungle was simply the world they were living in and the nasty people in it. But that’s not all there was. No matter what, there were always pockets of joy to be found; there was always a way out. And they’d never truly be defeated by it if they were together. It couldn’t hurt them unless they gave in to it, she decided.

Her fingers slipped between Carol’s, locking in place. They fit perfectly.

She paused. ‘I’d marry you, too. If we could.’

Carol watched her, her eyes beholding her as they had done in the dream. It was as if they’d always been sat here, loving each other, floating through time as if time didn’t matter. Perhaps they’d been waiting for this moment since the beginning, searching to find the same plane of understanding. Therese thought it might be the last piece of the puzzle, clicking them together: the final picture.

They’d travelled thousands of miles, it seemed, since their first encounter. It was mid-August now. And although they still had a fight to go with Rindy, they were crawling through the mud and gravel together, pulling the weight equally.

What had once felt like a tipping balance, shaking Therese’s foundations, now felt like level ground. They weren’t the same people who had met at Frankenburg’s, or even the same people who had rekindled their love in April. They’d blossomed apart and together, growing upwards, and the life they were sowing had the potential to be so beautiful.

‘Well, who’s to say we can’t?’ Carol asked, moving along the bed, closer to her. Her spare hand caressed Therese’s jaw, cupping her face.

‘What?’

‘Dearest, we’re as good married now, aren’t we?’

Therese thought of their home together and Rindy, who she knew they’d see more of eventually, when they finally set out to push against Harge. She thought about the odd little things that filled their time together: the chaste kisses, the small arguments that rattled them, the coffee runs and homecooked meals, the phone calls at work, the sleepy embraces that held strong throughout the night. It was more than love, and certainly more than lust. It was more than most couples had even after years of marriage. It was equality, and mutual respect, and love beyond measure.

‘I suppose so.’ Therese was still unsure, her eyebrows creasing in confusion. ‘But it’s not legal, we don’t have the same rights as-’

‘And when have we ever listened to anyone else? Why should we care?’ Carol interrupted, dipping her head to catch Therese’s gaze. She lifted her hand that held Therese’s left hand, gesturing to the golden ring.

Therese smiled, accentuating her dimples. Her eyes were watering as she observed the sparkling sapphires. ‘Yes, you even got me a ring,’ she said, anticipating Carol’s words before she had had a chance to say them. They were musing now, lost somewhere been reality and a fantasy.

‘I did.’

‘But you still can’t change your surname to mine.’

‘Ah. That.’ Carol pursed her lips together in thought. ‘But what’s in a name, really? It couldn’t make me love you any more or any less, much like taking Harge’s name didn’t save our relationship.’ Carol lay down beside her now, propped up on one elbow, her face was glowing.

‘I guess you’re right. Though I do like the thought of sharing a name.’ Therese admitted, blushing.

Carol hummed as she kissed her cheek and slipped an arm under the duvet to hold her across the stomach. Therese turned to face her so that their noses were almost touching. She leant in to kiss her, but the woman moved out of the way and interrupted her.

‘So, what do you think? Carol Ross and Therese Belivet, wife and wife?’

There was a childish, devilish grin playing on Carol’s lips, but her eyes were hardened with something more profound. Therese laughed, unsure whether Carol was truly being serious or not. The glint in her eyes could have just been a trick of the light, or a trick of the mind.

Either way, it was nice to see the woman happy and carefree - unburdened.

‘All right then.’

‘You can’t take this back, Therese. I don’t have the stomach for another divorce.’ She said in mock-seriousness. ‘The paperwork is horrific.’

‘ _All right_ , I said.’ Therese uttered, her speech raised, but there was laughter underlying in her voice.

Carol squinted her eyes, trying to extract something more from her.

‘Okay, okay. We’re wife and wife from now on. Or as good as.’ She said softly, affirming their promise as her eyes glistened. 'Carol was on her immediately, kissing her languidly, their lips moving against each other in flawless synchrony.

And Therese was back in her oasis again, her mind filling with beautiful things. The most beautiful of all being Carol.

‘If I knew we were going to get unofficially married today, I’d have gotten up sooner. Or at least straightened out my hair.’ Therese joked as they broke apart.

Carol threw her head back in laughter. ‘Well, you’re still the most breathtaking bride I’ve ever seen.’

The two women held a stare, pondering the same thought.

‘I love you.’ Therese said, barely audibly.

‘And I love you.’

In one swift movement, Carol swung her legs off the bed and grabbed the form. She rifled through the bedside table to find a pen and then hurriedly filled in the blanks.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Now get up, slowpoke. We’d better hand this in as soon as possible so we can celebrate.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am here and I just spent the last hour fixing my broken laptop so I could post this. I haven't forgotten about all of your comments, but I need to sleep, so I'll respond tomorrow!
> 
> Got a busy few days again (and then it's back to work on Wednesday), so updates might be sparse. 
> 
> I hope you're all having an amazing holiday season!


	18. Chapter eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Sorry this chapter took forever to write. Celebrations, more celebrations, further celebrations, work and... then... a dreadful cold... have rendered me pretty useless. I'm heading up country again this weekend for a thing, so I'm finishing this on a work break... I'm bad. 
> 
> It was incredibly hard to write, so I really hope you all enjoy it.

‘So, this friend of yours,’ Abby began, leaning over the armrest of her chair to plunge her dying cigarette into an ashtray, ‘he knows what he’s doing?’

The woman sat back into the armchair and crossed her legs, surveying Therese in a calm, reassuring, yet gently critical way. She had a right to be wary – they all did. This was unknown territory.

Therese forced a small, nervous smile, but failed to hold Abby’s stare. She palmed a hand against the coarse fabric of her green plaid skirt, above her knee, just for something to do. A distraction. Her other leg tapped nervously against the carpeted floor, keeping time with the dark, polished wooden grandfather clock that hung dominantly on the wall. The noise of her heel against the floor emitted a dull, repetitive thudding noise. It sounded like a faint heartbeat.

‘Yes. I hope so.’

Her words felt like they were drowning in the vacant space that hazed between them.

The clock ticked, her foot tapped. The smoke from Abby’s discarded cigarette slowly eased up into the air, like fingers on a hand trying to grasp at something. Time stretched out ahead of them indefinitely, out of reach. The flat felt more like a vacuum, sucking the life out of her.

‘And you trust him?’

_Tick. Thud. Tick. Thud. Tick._

‘He’s my best friend.’ She began, and then wet her dry lips with her tongue before continuing. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

At that admission, Abby smiled warmly and visibly relaxed. Her shoulders sunk down, the tension in her forehead faded away, and her wide, speckled brown eyes softened. If anyone knew the importance of friendship, it was her.

Although she and Dannie would probably never have the kind of kinship Abby and Carol had, they still had a rare sort of connection. Emotionally, philosophically, and morally, they were incredibly similar – two books with the same intonation. They appreciated the importance of actions, the justness of character, the hidden meanings behind words. And they valued love above anything else. As such, Therese knew Dannie could be trusted; not only with her worries, but those of Carol’s, too. And what a burden it had felt like to place on him.

‘Friends like that are precious, and very rare to come by. He sounds like a good man.’

‘He is… And so are you. Thank you for being here.’

‘It’s no trouble, really. But what about his friend? Do you know much about him?’

‘I haven’t met him yet.’

She wished to talk to Abby of something else – something that would distract them both – but nothing except the situation itself crossed their minds. It felt like an ultimatum was hanging, suspended in the air: a dice that had yet to be rolled, a decision that hadn’t yet met its conclusion. Their path ahead was uncertain, diverging into two, three, four... But, although Therese had never been much of a gambler, she knew any chance was better than none at all.

And she was willing to bear the consequences of taking this chance. The dice had been rolled. It was spinning, now, morphing into a blur. And they all waited for it to still.

Suddenly, Carol waltzed into the room, disturbing their dazed thoughts and sparse conversation. She’d been pacing anxiously throughout the house for the last twenty minutes or so, muttering to herself and shifting about the odd ornament or two. It was typical Carol – always restless, never able to sit still for even a moment.

‘I should have called Fred.’ She murmured whilst brushing her hair back. ‘This doesn’t feel right.’

‘It’s no good to bring him out and dust him off now.’ Abby said. She lit another cigarette and took a drag. ‘As soon as lawyers get involved, it’ll only get nastier. You of all people know that.’

‘Well, I don’t like this.’

‘Me neither.’ Therese whispered, in a trance. ‘But what else are we to do?’

Carol’s body jumped slightly, seemingly in shock that she’d spoken at all. But her stiffened expression and cold eyes relaxed when she looked at Therese.

‘You should listen to your girl more often.’ Abby joked, flashing Therese a grin. And Carol smiled at them both in spite of herself.

‘Oh, I do.’

The gaze she gave Therese made her feel like she might be eaten alive.

Instinctively, Therese moved over on the couch, closer in the direction of Abby, to allow Carol a place to sit. The woman sat down tentatively, and it made her look fragile. She still looked spaced out, Therese noted, as if her mind couldn’t fully see outside of its own walls. But even in her state, she placed a strong hand on Therese’s fidgeting leg, stilling it for a moment.

And then the room flooded with mutual silence once more. Only the ticking of the clock, the occasional clinking of glasses on tables, and the ins and outs of breathing filtered through the quiet space. Carol slid her hand back to meet Therese’s. Her thumb idly played with the ring on her left hand; it was a new absentminded habit the woman had acquired since Therese’ had started wearing the item of jewellery. The movements of the ring were soothing in a hypnotic sort of way. And, in the mist of the tension, she escaped into the small pocket of peace she needed to reflect on the last few days.

***

On Tuesday morning, Dannie had come to the darkroom, bent over and out of breath. Strands of his brown hair clung to the perspiration on his forehead, and he wiped them away with a fresh, white handkerchief. She had been expecting him to arrive with news sooner or later.

After some more heated conversations with Carol, they’d decided to take the man up on his offer to help them. And, though Therese wasn’t sure what that help would entail, she knew it wouldn’t involve another polite conversation with Harge. They’d gone beyond that now. There was no use in pleasantries if they received nothing but violence in return.

Therese looked at Dannie’s hands. A small slip of paper was scrunched up in one ink-stained fist, crinkling at the corners. Therese stood silently, in place, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal before she chose to press him. But after a few moments, he handed her the paper.

She kept it closed in her hands. ‘What is it?’

‘So my pal, he used to be an investigative journalist, but now he dabbles in private investigative work… He owed me a favour.’ He had said, gasping for air. ‘Long story, I set him up with a gal a year or so ago – you get the picture.’ Dannie waved a hand dismissively. ‘Anyway, he’s pretty apt at digging around in people’s dirty laundry. That’s his number.’

He nodded to the crumbled piece of paper. Sure enough, when Therese unfolded it, she saw a set of smudged numbers.

She looked at it as if it might have been an answer to her prayers.

‘I called him.’ Dannie continued. ‘Asked him to do some digging on Harge, you know? I’ll meet him in a couple of days to go over what he finds.’

‘Oh.’

‘Is that all right? I can call it off if you-’

‘No… No, it’s okay. Thank you, Dannie. It just feels, I don’t know, like I’m doing something wrong.’

Her friend approached her, embracing one of her hands in both of his. He paused for a moment, allowing the gravity of his stare and sullen expression to do some of the talking before he spoke.

‘Don’t you dare. He threatened you. He took Carol’s daughter away. He _hurt_ her. That man deserves nothing, ya hear me? You’re not doing anything wrong, Therese.’

Her head had been dipped down, looking at her feet. But, when she felt strong enough to look him in the eyes, her jaw had set. And there was a determined aura about her, shielding her from any last thread of doubt clinging to her conscience. She folded the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket.

‘You’re right.’ 

Dannie patted her on the shoulder, firmly, almost as a way of congratulating her for her realisation.

‘How much did you tell him about the situation?’ She asked quietly. ‘About us?’

The hand on her shoulder squeezed slightly. It was a silent promise.

‘Only that he was an angry man who chose to wrongfully keep his daughter from her mother. Nothing else. Nothing about you or your relationship.’

There was a pause. The smell of photo chemicals whirled around under their noses.

‘I suspect if he’s any good, he’ll find that out for himself.’ She muttered.

And Therese realised that she hadn’t really thought about that before. By fighting back, or at least testing the waters, they risked exposing themselves to a wider group of people. She wondered whether that’s why Carol had been so reluctant to pursue anything more than a one-to-one with Harge.

Dannie looked down at his feet, shuffling them from side to side.

‘And what does he plan to do?’ Therese asked.

‘Check up on him, I suppose. His history and his finances, that sorta stuff. And his business, too - what was it called? Rattner and Aird?’

‘That’s the one.’ She mumbled, idly screwing a lid back onto one of the chemical containers. ‘He’s a partner in real estate investment.’

‘Well, you know realtors and investors. They’re as dodgy as they come.’ Dannie smirked, shaking his head in amusement.

Therese released a short, sharp laugh. ‘We’ll just have to see.’

She had then turned to her work at hand, shooting a quick glance at Dannie before continuing to develop more photos. His eyes seemed to gleam in the red light and she knew, for whatever reason, that this moment was significant. It was the turning point of something. It was a step forward.

And before she could register the words that left her mouth, she had already said them.

‘Things will be all right, won’t they, Dannie?’

The corners of his mouth upturned into a smile, but under the light the smile looked somewhat sad. She released it was a question that had no certain answer. The future would always be unpredictable. And Dannie of all people couldn’t really know what was to come.

‘It’ll all be okay, no matter what.’

Then, after another pat to her shoulder, her friend had backed up to exit the room. She dipped her hand back into her pocket and thumbed open the piece of paper again. The phone number itself was meaningless – numbers that served no real purpose - and yet it was the only hope they had. And for that reason alone, she clung to the stained paper all day, hoping that she could extract something good from it. She wished for a way out, or a way forward: a clearing in the forest.

***

‘Earth to Therese,’ Abby said, waving a hand in front of her face. Her head snapped up as her eyes refocused on reality. She must have been in a daze, Therese thought.

‘We’re sick of sobriety. Do you want a drink?’

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ Therese asked, but she aimed the question at Carol, who looked like the life had been sucked out of her. Her face was paler than she’d ever seen it, greying across the surface. ‘He might be back at any moment.’

Carol sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t respond. Instead, she walked over to one of the framed photographs of herself, Therese and Rindy that hung proudly in the centre of the wall. She raised a single hand to trace the outlines of their faces over the sheen on the glass.

‘I suppose I should take it down before the investigator gets here.’ She stated, as if the thought of it didn’t hurt her at all.

But Abby and Therese could see through it. They observed her quietly, noticing the sag in her shoulders and the lack of confidence in her posture. It was so unlike the gracious, proud, self-assured woman Therese had met well over eight months ago. And suddenly she felt an odd sense of pride knowing that she was able to see Carol in this way: true to life, to herself, to her emotions. Not many people got to experience this vulnerable side of her.

Raising herself off the couch, Therese slunk behind Carol and placed a steady hand on her back. She leaned her head against the slope of Carol’s shoulder.

‘Keep it up.’ Therese said simply. And then, with little effort, she pulled Carol back by the wrist and enveloped her in a hug. ‘It’ll be okay,’ she whispered in her ear, kissing down the strong slant of her jawline. ‘I love you.’

There was a knock at the door.

Abby rushed to the hallway, leaving them both a chance to finish their embrace. Therese kissed Carol on the lips quickly, hurriedly, but let her expression carry the weight of what she felt. A moment passed between them. She saw it in Carol’s eyes that suddenly looked like two moons pulling her in, swaying her in an endless dance. It seemed like they were in an odd sort of in-between state, as if they were on a train, travelling between then and now, circling around, waiting for their stop.

The ultimatum that she had felt earlier, the dice rolling in the air, felt like it was slowing.

The door opened, and they heard the lighthearted lilt of Dannie’s voice introducing himself to Abby. Then, there was a low grumbling of another man’s voice. She could only assume it was the ex-reporter, turned detective, Dannie had mentioned. Abby laughed at something the man said, and then there were a series of footsteps.

When the two men entered the living room side-by-side, Therese was taken aback by how non-threatening the man in question looked. He couldn’t have been more than 40 year’s old, but his facial features looked youthful and kind. His figure was slim, inconspicuous, and the gentle lines around his mouth suggested that he knew how to smile often. He was not at all like the sort of reporters Therese was used to dealing with on a day-to-day basis, with their greying stubble, jutting chins and drooping eyes.

‘The name’s Victor,’ the man said, offering a hand for Therese to shake. She took it timidly, suddenly becoming nervous.

‘I’m Therese Belivet. Carol’s friend.’

The word felt dirty coming from her mouth. It was a horrible lie and a dismissal of all they’d built. But it was necessary for the cause. It was necessary if it’d bring them Rindy. And so, she kept her head looking forward, despite feeling the need to apologise to Carol with her eyes.

‘Ah, yes. Dannie speaks very highly of you. And you must be Carol Aird?’ Victor asked, turning to the woman.

Carol smiled. ‘It’s Carol Ross now. Please, take a seat.’

The man nodded his head in thanks before sitting down. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands drop between his spread legs, clasped together. Dannie sat down beside him, pulling out a thick cardboard folder. Paper spilled out between its corners.

‘So, I gather you’ve had some difficulty with this Harge fella?’ Victor questioned, his lips tilting up into a knowing smile.

‘To put it lightly.’ Carol murmured, lighting herself a cigarette as she perched on an armrest.

‘And you, too, Therese?’

It was clear the man knew everything, Therese thought, from that one question. She could see it in his eyes. But she had no idea if their secret was safe with him yet or not. Flashing a quick glance to Dannie, she saw her friend clench his jaw slightly. Perhaps he didn’t know either.

‘Yes. Unfortunately.’

Victor took one of the files out of Dannie’s hand before licking his index finger and thumb. He flicked open the paper document, scanning his eyes from side-to-side. The four of them waited in silence, hanging onto his every facial movement – the quirk in his lips, the movement of his eyelids as he read, the tap of his fingers that clung onto the paper he’d undoubtedly already absorbed.  

‘I gathered a lot of contacts at my run at The Times. I dedicated years of my life to unearthing political corruption, financial fraud, that sort of thing. I guess it gave me a knack for reading between the lines, following my gut, discovering the faces behind the masks.’ He murmured, his face almost fully concealed behind the file. ‘I can get almost any information I want, if I know the right people to talk to and the right places to frequent.’

He dropped the paper onto his lap and surveyed the faces in the room: Abby, Therese, Dannie, and then Carol. His smiling face didn’t falter. In any other situation, Therese might have found it comforting – endearing, even – but now, in the midst of all the tension and uncertainty, it was incredibly unsettling. She wished he wouldn’t beat around the bush or try to be so polite. They needed answers.

‘I understand, Ms Aird – _Ross_ – your husband has full custody of your daughter, Rindy?’

‘Yes.’ Carol answered monosyllabically. She fiddled with the cigarette between her fingers, peering through the smoke that coiled upwards beside the curls of her blonde hair.

‘And I see he filed an injunction against you, before your final hearing, petitioning the judge to consider a morality clause.’  

Abby jolted, but kept her feet in place.

Therese’s eyes widened. She looked towards Carol, who still seemed unfazed, as if it didn’t bother her who knew or what they thought. She’d been ridiculed and tormented enough for her sexuality, Therese supposed. And what could this man say that could ever affect her as much as the hurt Harge had caused?

Before she could find the courage to say something on her lover’s behalf, Dannie’s face had whipped around to face the man. Anger sparked within him like electricity. ‘Vic, what’s this got to do-’

Victor shut his mouth and placed his hands up in an act of surrender, quietening Dannie.

‘I’m here as a friend.’ He said gently. ‘I promise you.’

There was a pause as he let the atmosphere in the room settle. Therese noticed that his eyes rested upon the framed photo of Carol, Therese and Rindy on the wall, but she couldn’t work out if his expression was sympathetic or apathetic. She wished he’d look away: it felt like he was prying into their personal lives or seeking answers he wasn’t entitled to. And although she knew he was here to help them, deep down, she couldn’t help but think of Tommy Tucker and the privacy he had stolen from them all those months ago.

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She couldn’t cope with another instant like that.

‘Your relationship with Miss Belivet has caused some tension between you and him, I feel.’

Carol snapped at the mention of Therese’s name, and it looked as if she’d suddenly turned from ice to fire. Her back straightened up and her eyes hardened. ‘If you’ve come here merely to make a mockery of our relationship, you might as well leave now.’

And Therese could have sworn she saw the man cower for a second, too quickly for anyone else to have noticed.

‘Not at all, Ms Ross. I hold no prejudices.’ He looked at the photograph once more, smiling warmly before continuing. ‘What I mean to say, of course, is that the nature of your relationship is a playing card for Harge. He’ll use it whenever he can to get his way. But I think you both know that.’

Of course they knew that, Therese thought. It was all they’d known ever since the first hesitant steps of their relationship. Even when they’d been apart, mourning the loss of each other in silence, separately, it had all been a result of Harge and his attempt to split them. He weaseled his way between them, forcing them apart at any opportunity. But, much like magnets, or another unstoppable force, they always found their way back together.

‘All right, so what can they do?’ Abby piped up from the corner of the room, impatiently. Her arms were crossed against her chest defensively.

‘Find something he cares about more. Something that he can’t use your relationship to hide behind. Find his weakness and use it to your advantage.’

In one swift movement, Victor extracted a file and placed it on the glass living room table. With one elongated finger, he pointed to a sheet of tables and numbers. It looked like some sort of financial paperwork, Therese thought, but she couldn’t be sure.

The four of them crowded around the document, each quietly trying to make sense of it.

It was a history of personal transactions.

‘What is this?’ Carol asked incredulously. She thumbed the document open, analysing the numbers.

‘You shared an account with Hargess when you were married.’ He stated.

‘Yes, of course. But he managed it all. He’s a real estate investor – he was better with money than I ever was.’

‘A little too good, perhaps.’ Victor stood up and pointed to certain transactions here and there, dotted about the account history spontaneously, that he’d circled with red ink. There was a pattern to it all. ‘You see these? Each month, like clockwork, a different amount each time.’

Carol’s mouth opened with realisation. She flipped through the rest of the paper rapidly, her eyes moving at a lightning speed. Words seemed to get caught in her throat. ‘He’d been doing this for years,’ she whispered.

The man nodded in understanding.

Still confused, Therese wound her way to Carol’s side to get a better view of the paper. She squinted at the circled information and the vague transaction statements, until finally she understood.

For years, Harge had been stealing Carol’s money and pocketing it into his own account, little by little. It wouldn’t have been enough for Carol to have noticed, even if she had kept a close eye on their accounts.

Despite their company, Therese placed a hand on the small of Carol’s back, rubbing it soothingly. As if the man could take any more from the woman, she thought bitterly, as if there was any more to take. And how could anyone ever take a woman like Carol for granted? How could the man not see her as she did? Beautiful, strong, intelligent – the biggest gift life had ever given her.

‘Marital embezzlement. Financial theft. Whatever you want to call it.’ Victor said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Over the course of eight years, he’s stolen thousands from you, right under your nose. It’s enough to fine him tens of thousands or imprison him for a few years. At the very least it’ll ruin his reputation as an investor, perhaps even put him out of business.’

He smirked and let out a grunting laugh. 'I mean, what sort of client would want to place their property in the hands of a thieve?' 

Carol placed a shaking hand over her mouth and closed her eyes in shock. Her breathing came out raggedly, as if she’d forgotten how to follow life’s most basic, primitive rhythm. Tears started to form underneath her eyelashes and Therese watched painfully as they cascaded freely down her cheeks, like the heavy rain showers of a thunderstorm. She held her close, trying to soften the blow with her love.

Therese caught Abby's gaze and pleaded with her silently to take over. 

Nodding slightly, Abby stepped in, as she so often did, to talk to the man on Carol's behalf.

‘So, what do we do with this information? Will it hold up in court?’ She asked, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown. ‘Have we got him?’

‘Want my advice?’ Victor grabbed his coat and flung it over his arm, preparing to leave. His eyes flitted between all of them. ‘Court takes time and money. And you’ve been jumping through enough legal hoops as it is. Show him this – use it against him – play him at his own twisted game.’

And with that, he said his goodbyes and walked out of the apartment, leaving the four of them to process the news. They stood huddled together, joined by this one event, as if they were one collective fighting the same battle and feeling the same pain.

But in amongst it all – the hurt and the betrayal – pale sunlight peered through, like a leak in the sky.  The air seemed to thin, the uncertainty vanished. And the dice that Therese could once see spinning blindly in the air stopped, and fell, and rolled a six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes! 
> 
> It so oddly feels like I haven't spoken to any of you in such a long time. I hope you're all well and are enjoying 2019 so far, but let me know how you're doing! :) Apart from my flu, I'm having an alright time. Could 100% do with a week long nap, though. 
> 
> Love and hugs and all that,  
> Claire


	19. Chapter nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter so far - I hope it isn't too confusing or all over the place (I'm still sick and my brain is tired... but I'm hanging in there).

 

Being the wife of Hargess Aird was not at all what she had expected.

On the eve of their wedding ceremony, she had lied awake and alone in bed, wondering whether things would fit into place after marriage like everyone said they did. Carol imagined a puzzle piece slotting into a church-shaped gap. She thought about love, and children, and companionship, and how her life would now become better because of it. It _must_ become better because of it, she had pleaded into the night. She willed it to.

But the marriage had been more of a duty than an act of love; it had consisted of many burdensome things and very few joyous things.

Other than Rindy, Carol had felt that their relationship was built upon disappointments and disparity. And now, as she made her way into the quaint shop with the dull lighting and the foggy glass displays, those burdens rose to the surface of her mind like a long-forgotten piece of history that she’d thrown to the bottom of the ocean.

It felt like a cursed treasure chest she wished she could bury once more.

But none of the experiences that she kept locked away had been exclusive to her alone. Carol knew that many women across the world - and throughout history - had suffered the weight of mankind on their shoulders, clawing at their ankles, pulling them beneath murky waters. These women lay suspended, shimmering in the wake of the men as they sailed onward. And the chains wrapped around their translucent, lifeless limbs pulled them along obediently. Always taken, never going; always following, never leading.

Perhaps it was over-simplifying things. Perhaps not all men could be so controlling or inconsiderate. Carol knew kind and decent men, but none of whom had known her in a romantic way. And she wondered whether, if they had, she would see a different side to them. After all, her experiences as Carol Aird had only taught her only one thing: a wife had no ownership of herself. A wife was never meant to want selfish things or to harbor her own opinions. A wife carried her husband’s troubles, the impact of his misguided emotions, the dreams he strived day and night for. And, as plenty of mother’s told their daughters before bedtime stories and across dining room tables, a woman’s purpose was to make man as happy, settled and satisfied as possible.

It was a sacrifice. A chore. A job role in itself.

But it was also a myth; a lie man had fed woman in order to entrap her. A cruel ploy to use woman as a stepping stone. And she wished she’d learnt that sooner.

Maybe if she had, Harge wouldn’t have stolen money from her. He wouldn’t have bruised her arm. He wouldn’t spend his waking hours punishing her and keeping her daughter from her.

Carol fished out her old wedding band from her pocket roughly and all but slammed it onto the pawn shop counter. It spun and hummed in golden circles, blurring on the surface, until the man caught it deftly with two fingers and examined it with a magnifying glass. Carol looked away as he analysed the hallmarks.

She had meant to sell it months ago when the divorce had been finalised. But after throwing it amongst scraps of paper, bills and letters, she’d forgotten all about it. It was buried underneath her new, truer, freer life. And, as many things that lost meaning did, it became an irrelevant part of the scenery.

But after Victor’s visit Carol had become haunted by it.

The ring itself felt like a cage consuming her mind, still confining her to Harge. It held her hostage. It was claustrophobic, closing in on her. And in a blind, maniacal panic, she’d rifled through the entire apartment that very morning just to find it.

Oh, and how she had panicked.

Despite her best efforts not to, she’d batted away Therese’s attempts to help her or calm her down. Instead, Carol had chosen to respond to her lover coldly and dismissively. Her words had been monosyllabic: reminiscent, almost, of the back-and-forth attitude she had presented when they first began to get to know one another. Back when Carol needed time to make sense of her feelings and the sacrifices their love would inevitably cause. Back when Carol pushed Therese away, against her own instinct, because she didn’t want to hurt her or pull her under a weight that might crush her.

The memory of the morning was still sat uncomfortably in the corner of her mind.

 

_‘Where’s that…. God damned thing.’_

_‘Carol, what on earth are you doing? What’s the matter?’ Therese asked, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes glistening with worry. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her robe in place._

_‘Go back to bed. I’m fine.’_

_Therese stepped towards her lightly, outstretching one hand to place on her shoulder. But as much as Carol wanted the contact deep down, she couldn’t accept it. Therese meant well, and she knew it was an act of love, but it somehow felt like pity. She despised pity._

_Carol shut her eyes slowly and tried to calm down._

_‘Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’ Therese murmured. Her hand rubbed soothingly on her back in circles._

_‘Leave me in peace, Therese.’ She scolded, turning her head away._

_‘Carol, please, I know you’re hurting-’_

_‘I said I’m fine.’_

_‘I’m worried abou-‘_

_‘ **Therese**.’ Carol rasped. Her shoulder jerked away from Therese’s hand. ‘Go. I don’t need you here.’_

_Her voice had risen like a crescendo, killing the words caught in Therese’s mouth. Her lover’s hand dropped to her side. Her mouth closed shut. Her shoulders sunk down._

_‘You don’t mean that.’ She whispered, her green eyes watering._

_She turned and left Carol to rifle through their belongings, cursing and crying and struggling to see sense._

 

Carol hated herself for the way she had acted. She winced at the thought of it. It replayed on loop in her head, like a song that had already been written and learnt and sung a thousand times before. Her sharp, cutting snipes were a habit. A defense mechanism. A cry for help that came out strangled. Untranslatable.

And Therese, somehow, seemed to coerce it out of her. She enhanced her emotions due to no fault of her own, but rather the self-doubt and embarrassment Carol concealed within herself. It amplified when Therese was near. Carol wanted the woman to love her and to be proud of her. Not to see her as a weakened, pathetic, crumbling façade. And so, she put on a front and lashed out.

She raised a hand to rub her temple. Her head was struggling with the density of the memory now that her head was less foggy.

Poor, sweet Therese who could never intentionally hurt her or do wrong, and yet was so oblivious to the power she held over her. Beautiful Therese, who she so often believed deserved better. Wonderful, kind Therese who she knew should never be at the receiving end of her temperamental, stinging moods. And yet she was.

Carol knew why she acted as she did. The answer lay nestled somewhere between vulnerability and strength.

At the beginning, Therese had idolised her. She knew and referred to Carol as something bigger and better than reality: a granite pillar holding her above the clouds. And even after the small moments of weaknesses she’d allowed her lover to see glimpses of, it was still difficult for Carol to show herself as anything other than the woman Therese had _thought_ she’d known.

But Harge’s crimes against her, on top of all he had done to force Therese and Rindy away from her, had been beyond humiliating. It had shrunk her to half her size, compressed her into the woman and wife she thought she had left behind, burning, fizzing out of existence. And she wondered why Therese could ever love the Carol that wasn’t always tough, or resilient, or brutal. Could she love her when she felt so small?

Could Carol love _herself_ when she felt so small?

She closed her eyes as realisation hit. They were _her_ worries. Not Therese’s.

It was clear that Therese would love her regardless. Because Therese loved her, now, in a way no one had ever loved her before. Whereas the woman once only saw Carol as a reflection – an image she wanted to see through her lens – she now saw in and through her. Like a wide, open, echoing church, Therese had let herself inside, knelt down and witness the clarity: the fraying beams, the dust in the corners, the emptiness and the beauty.

She saw it all and yet she still worshipped her.

Therese loved her in new ways every day, no matter what those new days brought with them. Because Therese wasn’t Harge.

As Carol watched the man fondle the ring even closer, she cursed herself once more for treating her lover so coldly. After all their conversations, their plans, their admissions of love and commitment and beyond… She’d snapped again.

_I don’t need you here_ , she had said.

And it was a vile lie.

And, she supposed, she’d snapped at the will of Harge. In a moment of weakness, she’d given into him again.

Still, the man encircled her like the nauseating wedding band. Harge stomped around her like a dog herding cattle for slaughter. And she was sick of it. She was sick of Harge pummeling her down even now, twisting the knife in her stomach, anchoring her feet to the ground. He was still controlling her, even if it was a faint sort of control.

Well, she wasn’t his property. She never had been; not as his wife, and certainly not as his ex-wife.

‘Just take it,’ she blurted out impatiently, clicking her tongue. She clasped the metal fastenings on her purse shut.

The greying man paused, his hands stilling, and widened his beady eyes that wrinkled around the corners.

‘Excuse me, madam?’

‘The ring. Don’t worry about the money, just take it. I’m sick to the stomach at the damn sight of it.’ Carol said dismissively.

‘I won’t be more than a few moments longer, I-’

But Carol had gone and the door to the pawn shop had clattered shut behind the flurry of her green silk scarf and blonde hair. She didn’t want Harge’s money. She wanted to regain control – and she was going to get it, one way or another.

**********

Therese lay her back against the cool wall, hiding in the shade from the excruciatingly hot sun that peered through the balcony windows. The curtains blew gently, rustling like waves in the whispering summer breeze. Her legs were nestled underneath her, surrounded by various programmes and information guides for the Shubert Theatre.

After the success of her photographs for the Black Cat, Martin Foxe had asked her to take on another similar assignment, once again with the journalistic guidance of Daphne. Only this time it was much bigger. She was to photograph exclusive “behind the scenes” rehearsal pictures of a new musical, _Can-Can_ , that was to begin its run in the Shubert in May. She flicked through the script of the play for the third time that afternoon, but the words felt like they were shrouded behind something of a bigger importance.

The back of her head thumped against the wall as she dropped the wad of paper to the floor. Attempting to do work outside of hours was useless and she was getting nowhere.

She looked up towards a photograph of Carol that she had taken on their road trip. She was smiling, in her fur coat, behind the wheel of the Packard. Therese remembered taking the photo because she remembered her own smile behind the camera –filled with laughter and the wonders of realising she was hopelessly in love. The newness and excitement had been contagious, and she had to capture her.

The Carol in the photograph felt like a distance memory. After all, they’d covered more distance since she’d developed that photograph than they ever had done on the trip across America. And yet, this morning, she’d seen a glimpse of her again: wild, unpredictable, cutting, like a tornado rising her up only to drop her back down.

She had said she didn’t need her. And it hurt beyond measure.

Of course, Therese understood why she had been so cold. She knew how the cogs in her mind worked now, and she sympathised with her pain and she felt it, too. Harge had taken so much from her, and it was only natural that she would feel upset… But it still pained her when Carol snapped and sneered and diminished her.

She let out a quiet sigh and wondered where the woman was. It had been hours since she’d heard the slam of the front door and she was beginning to grow worried. There was no way of knowing where Carol had gone or who she was with.

As if her mind had willed it to, the phone rung unexpectedly. And her feet moved quickly without her brain having to tell them to.

She picked up the receiver, held her breath and waited for the caller to talk first.

‘Therese.’

It was Carol.

‘Oh…’

Therese felt a sudden mixture of awkwardness and annoyance. Where had Carol been? Why did she leave without saying a word? And why on earth did she think it would suffice to begin the phone call so underwhelmingly? Her fingertips tapped on the phone as she waited for Carol to take the reins of the conversation.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Carol started. Her voice sounded tired but strong – it crackled like the beginnings of a fire. ‘For how I acted this morning – for how I act when things get tough. I need you, always. _I need you_.’

She grasped the phone tighter, holding onto the voice of Carol as if she were there in the flesh. Her breath brushed against the speaker and she closed her eyes to imagine the outlines of Carol’s lips.

‘It’s not on, is it?’ Carol continued cautiously.

‘No.’

‘I should be better to you.’

Therese remained silent.

‘I love you,’ Carol said, and it cut through her chest, making her limp and tense at the same time.

She paused and looked up at the ceiling, blinking. Even though she still felt the sting of hurt, she had never been good at holding a grudge for long. Therese released a short sigh. ‘I love you, too.’

Therese could hear Carol let out a breath of relief on the other end of the line. ‘I’ll make it up to you, darling.’

‘I’ll hold you to that. But are you all right, Carol? I’ve been sick with worry.’

Therese wished she could circle her arms around her lover and help her through the pain and the resentment. The distance between them, no matter how small, seemed to leave a hole in her chest.

‘Yes, darling, I’m okay. I took the car out and dropped off my wedding ring at a pawn shop.’

‘Oh… How much did you get for it?’

Carol let out a breathy laugh. ‘Freedom, darling. Nothing else matters but that.’

Her eyebrows furrowed in a confused, but humoured, way. Therese leaned against the small side table to keep herself upright, smiled down into the phone and thought about whether she should buy Carol a ring to replace it. Perhaps not yet, she thought.

‘When will you be home?’ She asked. ‘I miss you… Is that silly?’

There was a brief silence. Therese thought she heard Carol’s breath catch, as if the woman had forgotten how to speak for a moment. ‘It’s not silly, Therese. I miss you, too.’ Carol cleared her throat. ‘I… I have one last errand I need to run and then I’ll be home.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay? You sound upset.’

There was a small, strangled noise on the other end and she was almost certain that Carol was now crying. ‘I’ll be all right.’

Another quiet pause rattled across the static between them.

‘I’m going to see Harge. Quickly. Soon.’

Flushing with sudden panic, Therese looked wildly around the apartment. But in search of what exactly? Carol was undoubtedly near the man now, and what was she to do? Run across the city blindly and hope she could find her?

‘Alone?’ The panic was bubbling and rising. ‘Carol, no, I’ll come with you.’

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip nervously. Her fingers ached with the tension of her grip on the phone.

‘Oh, darling, I think I need to do this one alone.’

And deep-down, in the pit of her stomach, Therese knew that. Carol had to assert herself as her own, individual person, with wants and desires of her own. She had to peel off Harge’s hands that clung to her cliff’s edge, greedily, alone. Carol had to manage the situation in her own way, and Therese couldn’t take that away from her.

All she could do was support her and wait.

‘I don’t want him to hurt you.’

‘And he won’t, I promise.’

She hoped she was right.

‘All right.’

Their breathing was all that filtered through the hum of the line for a moment. It felt as if the call had ended but neither of them were ready to let it go. Therese clung to the echo of the presence of her.

‘I do love you.’ Carol said once more. Her words were open, stretching out ahead of them indefinitely. It reminded Therese of their drive through the Lincoln tunnel and how monumental it had felt. ‘And loving you makes me so very happy.’

*******************

Shortly after her fleeting visit to the pawn shop, Carol had run to the nearest payphone to dial Harge. In her exasperated but determined haste, she could hardly register his response when he had picked up. It was as if all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and her heart pumping through her veins. But, she supposed, she didn’t want to hear him either way. The sound of him was enough to make her do something violent, or perhaps do nothing at all, and never meet him again.

‘Meet me at The Marigold coffee shop on fifth at 2PM. We need to talk, Harge. Be there.’ She had uttered quickly before hanging up the handset.

She was no fool. Meeting Harge in a public place was the only way she could be sure he wouldn’t react angrily. It was safer that way – she’d have the higher ground, she’d force him into a corner. She could get more out of him and leave whenever she liked.

After taking a break to even out her breathing and collect her thoughts, she had made a point of ringing Therese. The decent thing would have been to drive home, to apologise to her in person with her arms pulling her close… But she found it impossibly difficult to leave the woman once they were in the comfortable, warm confines of their home together. Carol needed to do this one last thing – to gain the upper hand and free herself completely, finally – before she could face Therese again.

Once their call had finished, she wiped away some stray tears and walked in the direction of the café. Her heels clicked on the pavement and her yellow suede handbag hung loosely from her elbow, swaying as she moved. Carol’s chin was raised, and her head held high. It was a trick she had learnt as a teenager – if she never looked at the ground, if she looked over or directly at others, her confidence would never falter. And as she strutted past stranger after stranger, she found that her confidence only grew.

Entering through the door, she chose a booth that was close enough to the exit and in plain sight. It sat next to a wide, panoramic window, overlooking the busy road. Carol placed herself next to it, rested her elbows on the table, and let the blurs of people and traffic wash over her eyes. She waited patiently, her body as still and calm as the air during twilight hours.

When Hargess finally walked up to her, an hour later, she even smiled at him. And her smile only widened when she saw the confusion on his face.

He took off his hat and placed it on the table, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes questioning. Strangely, she thought she could see a glimmer of hope pulsating through his expression, livening his movements. Perhaps he thought that she had changed her mind, that she wanted him back. Maybe he thought she was here to beg for his forgiveness.

Carol bit her teeth together behind her upturned lips and then gestured for him to sit. He did so without a word.

‘It’s a nice day, isn’t it?’ He asked gruffly, observing her closely.

She hummed in response.

‘Why did you want to see me?’

His features looked open – kind, almost – and the expectation that something beneficial would happen for him was written all over his face.

She took her time lighting a cigarette and turned to look out the window, blowing out a puff of smoke. A woman and a child dressed in summery outfits walked a dog down the pathway, smiling at one another. A man stopped to tie his shoelaces. A couple of friends walked arm-in-arm, pointing at various buildings and sharing jokes. They were part of it all: background noise humming in her ears, shadows in her periphery vision. She’d remember the footprints of them in her mind. They would probably look in at her now, she thought, and see nothing but a woman on a coffee date. Two people meeting to talk about something mundane. But it was more than that.

‘Rindy-’

‘Carol, now’s not the time and place.’

Her eyes hardened, and she felt as though she held the man suspended. ‘Trust me, Harge. You don’t want to interrupt me today.’

She opened her yellow bag and pulled out a photocopy of the document Victor had given them. Slowly, her hand slid it across the table. She waited for his smug, domineering expression to falter.

And, oh, how it faltered.

It was as if the man had trodden on a mine. There was a glimmer of realisation. A hint of regret. Then, the beginnings of blind panic.

‘Where did you get this?’ He seethed quietly through his barred teeth. His hands curled around the corners of the paper tightly, shakily. ‘Did the shop girl put you up to this?’

Carol blew a stream of smoke in front of her. ‘Her name is Therese and she’s not a shop girl. She’s a photographer.’

‘Well, _Therese_ , then, did she-’

‘No.’

She pulled the document back towards her. And Harge’s hands twitched at the loss of contact, itching to gain back the information.

‘Carol, I can ex-’

‘Explain? No. I don’t have time for that. And quite frankly I don’t care for what you have to say.’

His small, dry lips pursed together as his eyebrows turned upwards, pleadingly. She might have thought it was genuine remorse if she didn’t already know the man. If he’d been stealing from her for eight years, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could feel sorry about it. There wasn’t a slither of regret for treating her badly; there was only regret that he had been caught.

‘What will you do?’ Harge questioned. He looked smaller now, as if he were fading away into the seat of the booth.

‘It’s less about what I’ll do,’ she said, tapping some crumbling ash from her cigarette into a tray, ‘and more about what you’ll do.’

Harge’s eyebrows quirked quizzically.

‘There was a selfish moment where I thought I might want to press charges. But, as much as I despise you for what you’ve done to me, Rindy needs her father. She loves you. And I will not put her through more of the same.’ Carol almost choked on her words at the mention of Rindy. The poor girl didn’t deserve any of what she had been through. She swallowed the tears that threatened to rise up and spill over.

‘Thank you, Carol.’ His head bowed in relief.

‘I don’t want your thanks,’ she muttered. ‘I want regular visits with Rindy. Unsupervised, at my apartment, until we can agree upon a concrete custodial agreement. I want you to stop threatening Therese and to stop hounding after me. And I want the money you’ve stolen refunded to me immediately.’

‘But, your relations with that woman-’

‘Is my own business.’ Carol snapped, her eyes sparkling. ‘Not yours. I am _not_ yours. And if you question my conditions, I’ll be phoning my lawyer. And you don’t want that – your business doesn’t need that.’

The man seemed to perk up a little bit now, but whether it was due to fear, or hatred, or jealousy, she wasn’t sure. Carol stumped her cigarette into the tray and released a long, tired sigh.

‘Why are you so adamant that I should be unhappy?’

‘Carol, I don’t want you to be unhappy...’

‘And yet you take my money, and my daughter, and my independence. You try to sabotage my relationship, my happiness. Therese.’ Her hand shakily reached up to rub her forehead. ‘There is only so much I can take. So, please, end this now. Do this one last decent thing for me.’

His jaw clenched. She could see his mind trying to quell the anger, the sadness, the loss. The history of their relationship washed over him in a split second and she knew he was processing it: reliving it. She wondered if he thought fondly of those years and, if so, why? He couldn’t have been happy drowning with her in their failed marriage, could he? It wasn’t joyful for either of them. It was comfort. It was security.

Looking down at his clasped hands that were reddening and sweating, she saw the golden wedding ring band still wrapped around his ring finger.

‘I gave mine away this morning.’ She murmured, nodding her head towards it. A funny sort of smile played across her lips. It felt nice to be free and to know that the man in front of her was just that: a man. He had no power over her now. ‘I suggest you do the same.’

Harge twisted it between two fingers and pulled it clean off. He set it on the table and stared at it incredulously, as if it held all the answers he was looking for.

Carol flung her bag onto her shoulder and slid across the seat of the booth. When she stood up beside the table, she looked down at the man who seemed to hold himself, now, like a saddened child. He had been cornered, at last, and taken off her trail.

Without saying a word, she exited the café. Her body felt lighter, her mind felt clearer. Outside in the blinding sun she took a deep breath. Her lungs expanded in a way they hadn’t before, and it felt, finally, like she was free to grow into herself. Free to fill however much space she wanted. Free to be with Therese without Harge lurking in the corner. Free to fight for Rindy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just want to thank you all, as always, for your lovely comments. i've been struggling to write this story for the past few chapters. i had/have so many ideas and i struggle to settle on them sometimes. if i were to sit and plan this properly, like i should, i'm sure it'd read much better. but i'm impatient by nature.
> 
> i hope you're all good! :) <3


	20. Chapter twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, what a week it's been. i'm fine, but life happens, and it's been difficult to find the right headspace to write this in amongst everything that's been going on. 
> 
> that said, here it is! it's largely unedited, but it's my birthday tomorrow (how? when? why? what is time?) and i've got a busy week ahead, so i am posting it out now. :)

It was late in the afternoon when Therese burst through the revolving doors, her skin prickling across the surface from the cold. She shivered slightly and wrapped her cardigan tighter around her. The beginning of September had seemed to bring a cool breeze with it, as if it was offering a taste of what was to come. The smell of the season changing was in the air and all around her, a swirling mix of fragrances. And she couldn’t help but think of the previous winter and how special that season had been in amongst the dullness, the bland colours and people, all because of Carol. The thought sent warmth surging through her cold flesh, like a leaf that turned from green to yellow to orange.

There were no heavy clouds hanging over her head today, only the promise and the anticipation of something better. A new season; a completion of a circle.

Therese smiled broadly despite herself and where she was. It didn’t falter even as she looked up to read the green and pink ‘Frankenberg’s’ sign that hung from the drab panelled ceiling. And her whole body felt lighter than air as she revisited her old floor – the upper toy department – that seemed vacant now that it was one of those ‘in between’ shopping periods. Shop employees scuttled past her like wound-up robots, restocking shelves and pricing stuffed bears and dolls as if it were programmed into them. In amongst them, a small handful of customers weaved their way through different displays, pointing and uttering scripted words that she used to hear every day. It was like revisiting a time capsule; perfectly preserved, exactly the same as it had been a year ago.

The space where the train set had been – where her eyes had first landed on Carol – pulled her into a dance, and she allowed her feet to take her to it. Therese stood still, her eyes blurring slightly as she looked at the counter where she had spent the Christmas of 1951 working.

The morning of that first day, she’d nicked her leg on something outside. Blood has oozed out and she’d patched it up quickly with the stuffing of a sanitary pad. How small it seemed now. If only she had known as she fussed over it how insignificant such things would be in comparison to the months that paved the road ahead. And if only she’d seen outside of the building she stood in now, and the employee manual she’d been handed on her first day, to see how much bigger life could be.

It _shouldn’t_ matter now - she’d escaped it - but, bizarrely, it still did. Because Carol had been here, Carol had seen her here, Carol had shopped here by chance for Rindy. Frankenberg’s had meaning attached to it now, whether she liked it or not. It was where it had all begun.

The walls of the store seemed to elongate and move outwards before her eyes, like a growing oak tree, twisting and turning in unpredictable patterns. Therese felt small, suddenly, stood in the centre of the floor. It was like a maze or a prison. She wondered if Mrs Robichek was still working here, hunched over, the life draining out of her like grey matter.

Shaking her head, she turned away and took the elevator down to the first floor where the jewellery department was situated. She made her way to the biggest display cabinet and ducked her head down, her breath leaving a sheet of mist on the surface.

Underneath the glass lay a shimmering array of rings and jewels, most of which Therese ordinarily wouldn’t be able to afford. On the odd occasion she’d come down here during her time at Frankenberg’s, she’d even rolled her eyes at the extortionate prices and the men and woman who would needlessly spend so much. But her new job responsibilities, as well as the lack of rent money leaving her account each month, left her with pennies to spare. She’d been saving up a little from her paychecks each month, but she hadn’t had a use for them until now.

The reflections of the jewels sparkled in her eyes as she tried to imagine Carol wearing each in turn. Would she want to wear a ring so soon after she’d sold Harge’s? Therese wasn’t sure. But her gut was telling her to pick one out anyway and to dismiss her doubts. After all, she was purchasing it as an act of love, not ownership or manipulation. And so, she continued her task to find the perfect ring.

Therese had remembered Carol telling her that she didn’t care much for diamonds after she’d pawned off her engagement ring on their road trip. They were too bland and lacked any real substance or meaning. They were clear – empty, even – and Carol wasn’t a blank waiting to be filled in. There was more colour in her than that, there was something deeper to her.

As for sapphires, Therese knew she couldn’t gift the same jewels Carol had given her.

So, what _was_ Carol? Therese frowned in thought. Carol was red, she supposed, like her lips, her passion and her drive. But sometimes she was a deep green, like her mysterious air and the scent of her. And yellow gold, too, that radiated itself in her hair and smile…

There were too many choices.

But in a fleeting moment, as if the light had hit it in such a way as to draw complete attention to it, Therese noticed a garnet stoned ring. The gem, cut into a teardrop shape, was set on a golden band, surrounded by two smaller, circular white crystals. Garnet was January’s birthstone, she recalled – the month they had travelled across West together and fallen in love. Therese’s eyes widened slightly. It was the one.

She caught the attention of the closest shop attendant and pointed to the ring.

‘This one, please.’ She said determinedly. ‘In size 7, if you have it.’

The young woman smiled. ‘A purchase for yourself or for a friend?’ She asked, making small talk as she pulled out the right sized ring from a drawer below the cabinet. She handed it to Therese to observe quickly.

‘It’s for someone special.’ Therese replied, admiring the ring closely before handing it back to be boxed. ‘Yes, this is perfect. Thank you.’

She rifled through her purse and then handed over a wad of notes.

‘That’s very generous. She’s lucky to have a friend like you in her life.’

Her mind automatically corrected the well-meaning woman internally. Carol wasn’t a friend, she was a partner. And she was the lucky one, really, to know and be loved by Carol.

‘Well, thanks again.’ Therese said finally.

She took the boxed ring and headed towards the exit instinctively. But something unexplainable and new made her hesitate on her feet. Like a gust of wind, Rindy’s beaming, youthful face entered her mind, and the urge to revisit the children’s toy department drove her to head up the elevator, rather than down. This time she’d take a look at the floor for a completely different reason.

A nervous energy shot through her at the realisation she’d see the young girl again soon.

After Carol’s confrontation with Harge, he’d dutifully kept his word to stay in contact and move forward with their changing arrangements. Of course, his phone calls were still short, gruff and laced with a quiet sort of anger, but he called, nonetheless. And he never bit back, even when Therese thought he might, because Carol had frightened him into submission. For now, for once in their time together, they had the upper hand. It felt like their life was finally settling.

She scanned her eyes across the shelves of toys, models and valises. Therese knew, from the little she’d gathered from the girl and the conversations she’d had with Carol, that Rindy liked stuffed animals, trains and dolls. But she wanted something special. Something that might make Rindy think more highly of her.

Her mind wandered to the evening they’d spent together, cutting out angels and drawing sketches. Art was something she had imagined them sharing together and it made her so happy that Rindy enjoyed creating things, too.

Surveying the selection of children’s art supplies, her eyes fell upon a polished wooden box that opened up to reveal a selection of watercolour paintbrushes, selectors and sheets of paper. There was even a small, albeit flimsy, easel. Her breath sucked in sharply as she saw the price label. It was well above what she would want to spend, particularly after dishing out such a large amount of money for Carol’s ring. But it was a one-time purchase, she rationalised, and it would make Rindy and Carol happy.

In a rush, she purchased the box and had it gift wrapped.

But as she left the store, she felt a sharp pang in her chest; the loss of something that had never really meant anything to her at all.

Therese shut her eyes, refusing to turn around to look up at the building and its prison-like walls and over-the-top advertisements. She refused to think of Mrs Robichek, of the peaches the woman had eaten that first morning, the grey sludge she was served at lunchtime in the sparse cafeteria. The ticking of the clock, the murmurs of customers, the vacancy she had felt when she’d read about the holiday allowance of employees of 25+ years.

In her heart, she knew, she’d never return to the store and feel the same way again.

It wasn’t the loss of her past, but the loss of her childhood, the loss of who she had once been. She supposed, on top of that, it was the loss of her sadness and emptiness; the feeling of not knowing who she was or where she would go. And although she was glad to move on – to leave it behind – the change still sat sombrely within her, like the growing hum of an orchestra playing a sad song.

She wasn’t the same. The old Therese had vanished behind her, in that store and on the road, in sleepy towns that she couldn’t remember the names of and in the tears that cascaded down her old flat’s shower drain in January, and February, and March. She had washed away and grown anew. A stalk that had become a tree.

Her feet rushed across the pavement. She held her head up, looking towards the sky, and embraced the newness, the happiness, the possibilities.

*******************************

When Therese had unlocked the front door at 8PM, she was greeted by a wave of music that wound its way around the apartment. There was a dim, orange light emitting from the living room. She bit back a grin; Carol only ever played music like this when she was happy.

‘You took your sweet time!’ Carol called through the apartment, adjusting the volume on the record player so she could hear Therese better.

Therese smirked as she flicked off her heels and stacked them neatly to one side. Carol hated a messy house more than anything.

‘I had to head out after work to buy a few things,’ she responded. ‘But I’m home now.’

As she placed her keys and purchases from Frankenberg’s on a small wooden table, her head suddenly jerked up in recognition. She recognized the song Carol was playing: Billie Holiday’s cover of _Embraceable You_. It trickled through the hallway like thick treacle, tempting her forwards, in search of Carol. She took a few steps towards the glowing orange light that flickered across the walls. The sweet hum of the saxophone made her feel as if she were floating two inches off the floor, with her heart swimming in her chest.

Carol walked out into the hallway to meet her halfway. But she stopped in her tracks, her mouth agape, her face hesitating ever so slightly as she took in Therese. It wasn’t that she’d especially made an effort – her hair was straggled, her makeup wearing off from her day’s work – she could only think that Carol was caught off guard by the look in her eye. It was the look of coming home, placing her shoes on a rack, her cardigan on a coat hook; the simple acts that meant nothing individually but indicated so much. It was the look of knowing where she belonged and accepting it fully.

The ring was still packed away, hidden on the table. But Therese didn’t know when she was meant to give it to Carol and even the thought of gifting it made her feel nervous.

She stepped into Carol’s arms and hugged her tightly, sighing as the woman’s perfume enveloped her senses. Then, she pulled back to observe Carol’s face; there was a smile in her eyes, accentuated by the dancing devilish orange light.

‘What?’ She asked inquisitively, the beginnings of a laugh bubbling inside her.

Carol’s red lips followed her eyes and broadened into a grinning, genuine smile. Her hands dropped to Therese’s lower back and she pulled her along, backwards, into the living room.

‘Do you know something?’ Carol turned up the volume on the record player with one hand. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever danced.’

Her eyes suddenly brimmed with panic. Although Therese had danced somewhat before, alone or with other young men, it wasn’t necessarily a hobby. Even at school, during dance classes, she’d actively feigned being ill to avoid the activity. Her hands patted at Carol’s in an attempt to free herself from their embrace.

‘I can’t dance, that’s why,’ she said hurriedly.

Carol pulled her closer, her hands now firmly grasping her by the hips.

‘Can’t or won’t? They’re two different things, darling.’

> _Lady listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat  
>  And you'll get just what I mean_
> 
> _Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you_  
>  _Embrace me, you irreplaceable you_  
>  _Just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me_

The woman began to sway to Holiday’s velvety, yet rough, voice and the slow rhythm. She laughed breathily as Therese’s arms froze by her side, tensing at the movements, before guiding her hands to her waist. Still sensing her discomfort, Carol placed grazing kisses on Therese’s neck, followed by her jawline, until she felt her relax.

Then, Therese melted into the dance and her hips moved with Carol’s as if they were one. They stayed like that for a while, in their own intimate bubble, suspended above life itself, floating amongst their own affinity.

And then, when she’d thought she’d gotten the hang of it, Therese had stepped on Carol’s foot. It had made them both burst into laughter.

‘I told you I can’t dance!’ Therese joked, her head facing the floor to mask her embarrassment. The breaths escaping Carol’s mouth, through her laughter, tickled against her fringe.

Yes, she couldn’t dance well, but she enjoyed being close to her.

‘Well,’ Carol clicked her tongue, ‘we’d better have more practice then.’

Her arm reached out to place the needle back to the beginning of the record, but Therese shot out a hand to stop her. Carol paused and turned to face her with a shocked, but humoured, expression on her face.

‘No… I, uh, there’s something else I want to do.’

‘Oh?’ Her head quirked to one side. Her eyes darkened. ‘Tell me.’

It had seemed to stop her in her tracks. Carol turned away from the record player and lightly trailed her fingertips down the gentle curve of Therese’s hip and back up again. One finger looped through the waistband of her skirt and, in one swift movement, she jerked her forward roughly. Therese stumbled on her feet, a blush rising in her cheeks and spreading down her neck and chest.

Carol’s lips were on her neck again, possessively, as her hands wound their way up her back and across her shoulder blades. Her teeth nipped at her skin and she yelped quietly in surprise, snapping herself out of her daze.

‘There’s something I-’

The lips were on her own now, moving slowly but forcefully, communicating a need or a promise; something that carried weight in both of their chests, tied together. Therese moaned softly as she tangled and pulled her hands in Carol’s blonde hair. She could see the orange glow behind her eyelids, she could feel the warmth spilling over inside of her. Her insides were red and hot. Red like Carol. Red like Carol’s ring.

‘I bought something for you.’ Therese whispered, her words broken and gravelly. She kissed Carol once more. ‘Let me give it to you.’

Her lover’s eyes flashed with what looked like irritation – not at Therese, but by the interruption itself. Therese supposed she felt the heat, too, and the need to satiate it. But, as Carol looked at her lips and the eyes that were transfixed onto her and only her, she smiled sweetly.

‘All right.’ She said. ‘To be continued, I suppose.’

Therese placed a lingering kiss on her cheek and murmured, ‘Of course.’

She left Carol standing awkwardly, dumbfounded in the centre of the room as she jogged over to fetch Rindy’s present and the small red velvet box. Once she’d flicked the lid open to check it was still sitting safely inside, she hurried back to Carol, excitedly but with a hint of self-consciousness. As much as she knew she’d like the gesture, she wasn’t quite sure if the ring itself would be to Carol’s taste. She had an impeccably high standard and an eye for these things. It was why she was so comfortable in the career she was in, Therese thought; she knew whether she liked something, or someone, immediately.

Gently, she placed the box in Carol’s hands. The woman smiled at her quizzically before opening it, although she must have known what was inside.

A barely audible gasp escaped her mouth. She tried to cover it with one of her hands.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Carol whispered, tracing one fingertip across the cut of the garnet. ‘It reminds me of you.’

Therese moved in closer, took the ring out of its box and placed it on Carol’s middle finger on her left hand. It fit perfectly. ‘That’s funny,’ she said, ‘it reminded me of you. That’s why I picked it.’

Carol was still looking down at the item that was now glinting, shooting red light into different directions, on her finger. She looked mesmerised.

‘So, you like it?’ Therese asked.

‘Yes, darling, it’s charming. Thank you… What’s in that other bag?’

She’d forgotten about the watercolour set. ‘Oh, yes.’ Therese pulled the gift-wrapped box out of the bag and flipped the gift tag so Carol could read it.

> _For Rindy, Love Therese_.

‘For Rindy?’ Carol’s voice cracked slightly.

‘Yes… It’s nothing much, just a set of children’s watercolours. But I thought it might be fun for us to paint together.’ Therese muttered, her words jumbling in embarrassment. Suddenly the idea of buying Rindy a present felt ridiculous.

‘It’s perfect. She’ll love it… You’ll fast become her favourite, do you know that?’

Her face beamed as Carol looked at her, her eyes slightly teary, but full of adoration. She was glad to have made her partner happy. Therese flattened two of her hands against Carol’s cheeks and pulled her down for a lasting kiss.

‘You’ll never guess where I bought these.’

‘Hm… Where?’

‘Frankenberg’s,’ Therese sniggered, ‘Isn’t that terrible?’

Carol tried to stifle a laughter, but beneath her smile Therese could see that she looked genuinely touched. Their meeting place had meant something to her, too. Her heart had spread its roots there, even if they’d outgrown that time and place now. ‘Where it all began,’ she hummed.

‘I love you more than I did then, if that’s even possible.’ Therese cooed softly, her words sounding foreign and vulnerable in the space between them.

Her lover smiled. 'I know.' And she did know, because she felt it too. 'And it only grows.' 

Their stare held steadily as their minds ran through the distance together, circling through snapshots of motels and stretches of road; heartbreak, anger and longing; desire, lust and love. They met in the middle, in the present, and entwined their hands together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right. so. i suppose i should say now that this *should* have been the last chapter, but i'm selfishly clinging onto the last threads of this story. it's funny how i wrote it so quickly, determinedly, in a haze, and didn't realise that it'd have to come to an end at some point. it wasn't until a couple of weeks ago where i realised i had to wind it down. and i've been feeling all sorts about that ever since.
> 
> this chapter was meant to be the conclusion, but i decided to draw it out (hence why i'll given you, by and large, mostly fluff). so - and this may be subject to change - the next chapter will be the last. i imagine it'll be an epilogue-type thing. 
> 
> will i write something else afterwards? perhaps. maybe. we'll see. i'll know by the time the next chapter has been posted, i'm sure.
> 
> okay, now to finish work for the day! (oops) let me know how you're all keeping in the comments - i hope you're all good. thanks for being amazing, as always.


	21. Chapter Twenty-one / Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes full circle.
> 
> I'm not crying, you are (!) :( 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this. It's taken me days and I've been feeling a bit uninspired so far as my writing's concerned. I've tried to do the end of the story justice. Please hit me up if I've written something poorly. Again, I post with minimal edits because I like to live life on the edge.

Crowds of New Yorkers and those who had come from afar wove their way around them. The tops of their heads were illuminated by hanging string decorations and the squares of orange light that seeping out onto the street from the concrete buildings above. Children jumped in excitement, leading their overwhelmed parents by the hands, tugging their arms along to see what all the fuss was about. To walk through them, or alongside them, took an excruciating amount of time. But it was worth it when they finally saw the towering lights and baubles; the green fir that spoked in all directions.

‘Rindy, sweetheart, don’t run off,’ Carol called out cautiously, her voice cutting sharply through the bitterly cold December air. ‘Stay with us.’

The girl’s feet skidded to a halt and she released an exaggerated sigh. A pout formed on her face and she shot a look to Therese that seemed to say, ‘ _Mommy is so unfair, isn’t she?_ ’

Therese suppressed a smile. Carol hated crowds. As much as Christmas was a happy time, the hectic rushing, the panicked herds of people, the screaming of children, could become all too much for her. She understood, though; she felt it too. But they tried their hardest to put aside their anxieties for Rindy, who so often would fearlessly jump into any situation without a second thought.

Quickly and inconspicuously, whilst Rindy was tirelessly trying to crane her neck up to see more of the Rockefeller tree, Therese brushed her hand against Carol’s. She saw some of the tension leave the woman’s body, as if she had somehow extracted it from her in that one touch.

‘Thank you,’ Carol murmured. Her voice was thick and threaded with better, more loving words she couldn’t say aloud.

Therese could only smile, nod knowingly and imagine their fingers wrapped around one another, warming their purpling skin from the cold.

The three of them moved forwards until, finally, the ice rink was in sight. It was dotted with silhouettes of New Yorkers, young and old: some who could clearly skate fairly well and others who were struggling to stay on their feet. A squeal sounded from Rindy, making Therese jump backwards in shock.

‘Therese, can we go skating now? _Please_?’ Rindy pleaded, grasping one of Therese’s hands and shaking it up and down vigorously.

‘I… Uh…’ Therese looked to Carol, who looked somewhat exasperated. ‘Can she?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She said, bemusedly, before saying in a hushed tone: ‘I suppose she’s caught on that you’re more susceptible to saying yes than I.’

Rindy was still tugging at her hand rather aggressively, but it made her feel oddly happy. The girl was finally opening up and feeling confident enough to spend time alone with her. And although Rindy didn’t fully realise the nature of her relationship with Carol, or why it was that her father still had an issue with her, she was beginning to understand that Therese wasn’t going anywhere. She was a permanent fixture in Carol’s life – like a spine holding their lives upright. And their bond had begun to grow because of it.

In the three months since Carol had spoken to Harge, Rindy had been seeing more and more of the two of them. As it stood, she visited for at least a weekend day every two weeks; if they were lucky, she sometimes stayed for a couple of nights. Harge, of course, still disliked their relationship, to the point where he barely looked either of them in the eyes and called infrequently.

Sometimes she felt sad that the man would only allow them to see Rindy for the sake of saving himself. It was clear – or so she felt – that his daughter enjoyed their company and attention. Their gender and sexuality had nothing to do with anything, in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was Rindy was cared for and protected by two people who loved her.

‘Tez, you’ll skate with me and Mommy, too?’

Her lips quirked upright to one size. _Tez_ seemed to be her new nickname, but she hadn’t a clue where – or who - the girl had gotten it from. She had a feeling it might have been Dannie.

‘Well, okay. But I’m afraid I’m not very good… I’ve only skated once before.’

Carol placed an arm on her elbow in reassurance. Whereas the blonde woman and her daughter had regularly partook in winter sports, such as skiing and ice skating, Therese had never been given the opportunity. She didn’t go on holidays to France or Canada with her family, or even her boarding school for that matter. And, before her career change, she didn’t have the money to spend on measly hour-sessions in temporary ice rinks.

To her left, she could see Rindy puff out her chest, almost protectively.

‘I’ll teach you!’ She exclaimed loudly, her eyes hardening in seriousness. And then she ran ahead again.

The two women stood still for a moment, following the bundle of brown hair that was now bobbing up and down between the gaps amongst strangers. Wasting no more time, they upped their pace.

‘For crying out - _Rindy_.’ Carol yelled with her hands cupped around her mouth. She rolled her eyes as Therese burst into laughter. ‘Don’t you dare encourage her, Therese.’

An elbow jabbed lightly into Therese’s side, but it only made her stop and laugh harder. Behind the loose strands of hair that were wavering like ribbons in front of her eyes, she could feel the warmth radiating from Carol’s face; that strange expression of confusion, fascination and adoration. Her grey eyes were ignited by the reflections of the Christmas string lights, her lips were parted and drying in the cold wind, her cheeks flushed red. Looking at her, Therese felt utterly breathless and lost for words. She wished she could be so bold as to kiss her, despite the number of people pressing against them. They didn’t matter, she thought, they were only background noise, fillers in their lives.

Carol twitched her mouth to one side in thought.

‘Do you know something? It’s a year since we met.’

Of course she knew. She’d never forget. The postal slip she’d written from memory, after only glancing at Carol’s address once or twice, was engraved in her memory. The date, the time, the name. She could still see Carol’s eyes that held hers on the first day.

‘It is.’ Therese said sweetly, stretching the sentence out, grasping hold of the memory on her tongue. She dipped her hands deep into her coat pockets, as if she was worried she might lose control and encircle her lover into her chest and not let go. Her shoulder pressed against Carol’s.

‘What a year it’s been, hm?’

‘Yes.’

Tears of happiness, nostalgia and pain started to form in her eyes. She wished she could blame them on the cutting wind, but it was a result of something else altogether. The earth had turned on its axis one complete time since they had met. She had changed career and gained herself a full time role as a Times photographer. The seasons had come and gone and come back again. Life as she knew it was different; the world sounded clearer, the people on the streets had new faces, the emotions she felt within her had amplified. She’d come alive, she’d grown, she’d known attraction and loss and love. She’d known Carol, and lost her, and gotten her back in the best of ways. They had exchanged their own vows of commitment to each other, wordlessly, because words had never really been needed between them.

It had been a year, but it had been a lifetime. It had changed her.

Finally noticing her tears, Carol lifted a hand up to cup her face. Her thumb stroked back and forth on her cheek bone. Therese knew it would have taken a lot for the woman to display something that physical and telling in front of a crowd, and that thought alone made her want to cry more. Their love had grown and steeled at the edges. It was no longer fragile.

‘I love you,’ Carol whispered. ‘And I don’t care if anyone hears. Because of all the words in the world, those aren’t the ones I’m afraid of.’

‘Thank you, Carol.’ Therese said, sniffing her nose as she calmed her tears. ‘I love you, too.’

‘Now, let’s go and wrangle Rindy before she slips past the ticket booth.’

Then the two of them walked together, a few inches apart, to find their daughter.

*******************************

As soon as Therese had stepped foot on the ice, she knew the idea had been a foolish one after all. Her only previous experience of ice skating had been with her father, well over a decade and a half ago. She had been seven year’s old and her movements on the rink were clumsy at best. But her father had held her hand patiently, unfaltering, as she awkwardly moved one foot in front of the other, scraping painfully slowly across the white sheet of ice. Therese had fallen once or twice, but his quick reflexes and warm embrace had always softened her falls. After their excursion, she recalled him making her a mug of hot cocoa and recounting tales of his childhood Christmases, full of odd European foods and traditions that she supposed his family had adopted from Czechoslovakia. Perhaps that’s why she had thought she’d been attracted to Richard, she wondered; he had a family, and a host of traditions that made her feel like she was a part of something. But it wasn't for her - that life wasn't ever hers. 

She grasped a firm hold of the wall of the ice rink and smiled sadly; she hadn’t thought about her father in such a long time. She hadn’t thought about any of her family in such a long time, for that matter. Not her mother, or her half-brother, or her grandparents that had died when she was very young and unable to form words. They came and went in her mind like snow; always morphing, melting, never permanent. Fading out of existence.

As Therese surveyed Carol holding Rindy’s hands and gently gliding her in circles on the ice, an uplifting feeling built itself up timidly, brick by brick, slowly, inside her. It felt like the large tree that was to her left, or perhaps the Empire State Building. It was solid, permanent, unwavering, towering over a wasteland.

The mother and daughter beamed at one another. She could hear Carol singing praise after praise at how well Rindy was doing.

_‘You’re better than me now, do you know that?’_

_‘Look at you! You’re like a Christmas angel.’_

_‘We’d better get you your own pair, hm?’_

From the outside, still too afraid to let go of the edge, Therese suddenly felt like an intruder. She couldn’t make her way to them without slipping, but she also didn’t want to interrupt their time together. Her feelings and their feelings were two separate things, made of different substances. What loomed higher than a mountain for her, centering her life and plans, might only be the beginnings of a hill for them. But it was all new, she supposed, and she needed to figure out where she fit within it all.

Navigating this life was very much like gliding blindly on ice, she thought.

No matter which direction she chose, she would always have to account for sudden changes, sudden slips in her path. The terrain wasn’t simple. But she’d cross it for Carol and Rindy. She’d find her rhythm and learn how to be the best person she could be for them.

‘Oh, darli- _Therese_ ,’ Carol said, correcting her slip up quickly. ‘You poor thing.’

She glided effortlessly to her side and placed an arm around her waist to support her. Therese looked downwards at her feet in embarrassment and swallowed hard. Whose idea was it to put blades on shoes anyway?

‘I’ve got you.’ Carol whispered in her ear. ‘Just don’t pull me down with you if you happen to fall.’

Therese attempted to laugh, but it came out as a strained nervous jitter. ‘I will try my best.’

Then, they began shuffling on the ice towards Rindy. The girl clapped rapidly at Therese, who slowly started to find her feet. She skidded occasionally, her feet flaying out to the sides of her, but Carol kept her steady.

‘Tez! Use your arms! And don’t look down!’ Rindy commanded loudly, shouting for all the world to hear.

The low hum of Carol’s laugh brushed against her ear and reverberated through her. Their breaths fogged in front of them like small white clouds, moments frozen briefly in time, suspended. Therese didn’t feel cold at all.

‘You heard the boss, _Tez_.’ Carol murmured, her voice deep and velvety. ‘Make it to that far wall and I’ll make it worth your while later.’

The woman’s hand slid dangerously close to her lower back and further. A blush rose to her cheeks and her knees buckled suddenly without warning. Before Therese could register what was happening, she had fallen with a _thud_ on the hard, white sheet of ice. She squinted and grimaced at the pain that was blossoming – thudding – through her back, and fought the urge to yell out. Carol helped her to her feet, an apologetic but bemused emotion dancing in her eyes.

Rindy, who looked so much smaller (yet more capable) than a lot of skaters in the rink, made her way over to make sure she was okay.

‘What did you say to her, Mommy? You said something, then she fell over.’

Therese gave Carol a panicked glance, but the woman looked nonplussed. She always did have an unbreakable poker face.

‘Just adult things, sweetheart, nothing to worry about.’

The girl mumbled something unintelligible in response before hastily grabbing one of Therese’s hands and pulling her to the edge of the rink once more. They left Carol standing alone, perplexed.  

Rindy kept hold of her hand for a moment longer, as if to make sure she was steady enough to hold herself up alone. It was funny, really, how a girl so small had the confidence and assuredness of somebody much older.

‘My Mommy likes you lots, I think.’ Rindy said in a matter of fact way.

‘Does she?’ Therese asked, but her eyes were transfixed on Carol who was now skating effortlessly around the rink in circles. ‘I like her a lot, too.’

‘Is that why you sleep in one room?’

Therese could have choked on the air she breathed.

‘I… Um. Well. There needs to be a room free for you when you stay.’ She tried to hide the embarrassment and concern that threatened to seep out into her voice.

She and Carol hadn’t spoken about having this conversation at length. In their minds, Rindy wouldn’t catch on to their relationship until she was old enough, perhaps, to understand. And that wouldn’t be for years and years. If she knew now it might complicate things or, worse, anger the now-dormant Harge further.

‘Don’t worry… I think I know why.’

Carol waved at the two of them, completely oblivious to their conversation. But Therese could barely muster the strength to smile, never mind raise her own hand in response. The blood had rushed clean out of her. She waited for the young girl to elaborate before she chose to pitch in with an explanation or defence. If it came to it, she’d have to ask the girl to speak with her mother.

‘You’re scared of the dark.’ Rindy uttered quietly, as if it were some big secret that she had to keep between the two of them.

‘I – what?’

‘You’re scared of the dark and Mommy keeps you safe – it’s okay, I won’t tell.’

She paused for a moment and frowned.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You made noises in your sleep one time, like you were scared.’

Her eyes widened. Her face reddened.

Carol was approaching now, slowing her pace ever so slightly to ensure she wouldn’t bump into the two of them. Her red lips formed into a gentle smile that complimented her flushed skin. But, upon noticing Therese’s pained expression, her eyebrows knitted together quizzically. A hint of concern flashed across her features.

‘Is everything all right?’ She asked.

‘Yes, everything is-’

‘Have you heard Therese moan in her sleep, Mommy?’ Rindy questioned. ‘I think she’s scared of the dark.’

If Carol was shocked or embarrassed, she hardly let it show. The corners of her mouth twitched, and her curved eyebrows rose up quickly. But then her shock washed away, like a blanket of neutrality had fluttered over her. She smiled, even, and placed a hand on Rindy’s shoulder.

‘I’ll protect her from the dark, snowflake. Okay?’

Satisfied with her mother’s answer, Rindy skated away and began entertaining herself by scraping patterns into the ice. Therese released a shaky breath and covered her eyes and brow with her hand. From behind her fingers, she could make out Carol biting her lower lip, fighting a smile.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ Carol mumbled. She paused for a moment before letting out a sharp, loud laugh. ‘You’re going to have to be quieter, darling.’

**************************************

Later that evening, Carol and Abby sat curled up on Rindy’s bed with mugs of coffee warming their hands. The bed had been pushed to one side of the room and the floor was covered in newspaper cuttings and old white curtains that Abby had found in her parents’ attic. In the background, filtering through the radio in the hallway, came the deep tones of Bill Crosby singing _It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas_.

Therese entered the room after getting changed into a loose-fitting pair of jeans, an old shirt and an apron. Her short hair was tied up to keep it from falling in front of her face. Behind her, Rindy was dressed in an old dress that barely fit her anymore. Carol had discovered it hidden amongst her old belongings from their old house outside of town. Over the top, Therese had tied a tea towel around her waist to help stop any paint from dripping onto her legs or shoes.

‘Well, don’t you two just look the part!’ Carol said joyfully, her face beaming.

Beside her, Abby reached out an arm to quickly pinch Rindy’s cheek as she walked past, to the girl’s dismay. Rindy let out a whining groan and shot her godmother a cutting look.

‘Hey! You’ll miss Aunt Abby’s attention when you’re older, squirt.’ Abby muttered before sticking out her tongue, making Rindy giggle.

Therese bent down to tip some paints into used tins before grabbing a few small paintbrushes for Rindy to hold. Now that she’d had some practice with her watercolour set, and her grip was steadying, she decided that the girl was ready to paint the mural on the wall. Therese had outlined it with pencil well over a month ago, basing it off the drawing Rindy had created earlier in the year.

As she studied the blanks that were waiting to be filled in – the train rushing through the countryside, the houses built up sparingly across the fields – she felt a strange sort of pride. They were going to create something together that had meaning, even if Rindy wasn’t aware of it.

‘Right,’ Therese said, pulling a stepping stool over for Rindy to climb upon. ‘Are we going to start with the background first?’

Rindy nodded her head dramatically. ‘Yes.’

The got to work immediately, each grabbing a paintbrush and dipping them into a metal tin of luscious green paint. Together, they painted the hillsides and the bushes, blocking the colour before overlaying it with lighter greens and yellows for contrast. Every now and then Rindy would spark up with a new idea or two.

_‘We need pink flowers!’_

_‘And a Christmas tree like we saw today!’_

Somehow, the changed plans and improvisations made it all the better.

As they set to work on the train, which was now to be a deep red, like her mother’s favourite colour, Therese heard a snicker coming from behind them. She turned her head over a shoulder to see Carol and Abby, their heads together, laughing about some sort of inside joke.

‘Are you going to watch us the entire time?’ Therese asked exasperatedly. However, she couldn’t help her lips pursing together in a small smile. It was nice to see Carol so happy.

‘I was telling Abby about your fear of the dark.’

‘You know, Therese, I’ve heard if you sleep with the light on it can help.’ Abby chimed in, still snorting with laughter.

Therese rolled her eyes and glanced quickly at Rindy who was transfixed on her careful strokes of red. Her eyes fell on Carol and Abby again and she squinted her eyelids together, mockingly.

‘You know, the only thing that could possibly make this worse was if Dannie was here.’

Over the last few months, Abby and Dannie had seemed to strike up quite a kinship. Whenever they put them together, Carol and Therese were met with an insufferable amount of laughter and bad jokes. They’d even met up a few times for lunch with Phil and Louise in the city without the two of them.

It was nice, really, Therese thought, that all her friends seemed to get along now. Whether it was the shared hatred of Harge, or the mutual nature of their meeting, she didn’t know, but it made their time together - with or without Rindy - that much brighter. They saturated her life, accentuated the positives, and gave her hope when she had none. And she would forever be grateful for them and the light they brought her.

‘Oh, don’t be mistaken, I’ll be telling him about your night terrors when I next see him.’ Abby joked.

Suddenly, Rindy hopped off her stool and charged into her Auntie, paintbrush in hand. She wavered it in Abby’s face, stretching up to try and paint a streak of red down her nose. ‘Don’t be mean to Tez!’ She shouted, her eyebrows furrowed.

‘All right, all right, I surrender!’ Abby threw her arms up, but her head was still bent as far back as she could get it, dodging the red bristles. When Rindy didn’t show any signs of letting up, she turned to Carol. ‘Carol, your daughter is assaulting me… Don’t laugh… I’m… I said _don’t_ laugh, you nitwit.’

Carol was hiding behind the palm of her hand beside her. ‘You’re on your own with this one, I’m afraid.’

In the split second after Carol had spoken, and Abby had thrown her a shocked and betrayed look, Rindy had splattered a circle of red paint on the woman’s nose. There were a few beats of silence. Rindy looked shocked that she’d done it, Therese looked fearful of what Carol’s reaction might be, and Abby looked as if she might have ascended to another plane of existence.

A stream of laughter erupting from Rindy cut through the silence. She ran out of the room giggling, only to be followed by Abby who was threatening to tickle the girl.

‘ _Rudolph_!’ Rindy cried through her laughter. ‘Aunt Abby is Rudolph!’

Carol and Therese both smiled and shook their heads. They could hear footsteps thundering around the living room.

Now alone, Carol rose off the bed and made her way over to Therese, whose hands were coated in dried red and green paint. She had a few streaks across her face from where she’d rubbed her cheeks and nose with the back of her hand.

Wordlessly, Carol pulled her closer and kissed her feverishly, taking her breath away. Both of her hands slid into the back pockets of Therese’s jeans and pinched slightly.

‘These jeans look very fine on you.’ She purred, leaning in to kiss Therese’s cheek. ‘You’re doing a wonderful job, you know?’

Therese leaned into her embrace. ‘I think it’s mostly done now, we just have to highlight with some white.’

‘Perfect.’ Carol said, smiling. ‘But I meant with Rindy. You’re doing a wonderful job with Rindy.’

Her head flinched back in surprise. ‘Do you think so?’

Carol laughed. ‘On the drive over from Harge’s she couldn’t stop talking about you. I’d be jealous if it wasn’t so adorable.’  

Her heart soared. To know that Rindy liked her - was so fond of her - meant more than she could ever express. It was all she had wanted; Carol's love and the love of Carol's daughter; family.  

The footsteps echoing from the living room grew louder, signalling the oncoming arrival of Abby and Rindy.

The two hands in her jean pockets slid out quickly, and Carol turned away from her to investigate. But Therese shot out an arm to still her.

‘Carol, I-’ She paused. The recycled words in her head felt worthless in comparison to the feeling in her chest. ‘Thank you. For letting me know you. For this. Thank you for loving me through it all, despite it all.’

Carol gazed at her intently, her eyes reflecting the weighted look radiating from her own. There was a pause. A savouring of the moment. 

And then their lips fell together, like pieces of a puzzle, once more.

‘I’d do it all over again, darling.’

 

/Fin/

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay. Alright. Here we go. 
> 
> I'm an overly emotional and sensitive person anyway, so closing this up is going to be a bit of a sad time for me. Don't even @ me about that, I know it's ridiculous.
> 
> I started writing this, in part, to flex my writing muscles. Yes, I write for a living, but I have so few real chances to be creative. In fact, the last time I truly stuck to a "creative" project was almost 10 years ago, back when I desperately needed an outlet. Beyond that point, I suppose I struggled with my sexuality, mental health, home life, trauma etc. And so I grew stagnant in many ways; always doing the minimum to get by, always experiencing everything so passively. I had no energy to pursue the things I loved and no self-love to believe that I could create anything meaningful.
> 
> As much as this is sad (to some), I'm incredibly proud and happy to have completed something. Finally. That, in my opinion, shows my progress, my growth, my confidence, not only in my creative work, but in life in general. I'm getting better and happier, becoming more myself. (Thank god. I thought I'd lost the bitch somewhere along the way.)
> 
> But more than that, I wrote this story because of Highsmith's book. I'm in awe of her because she accumulated her own personal grief, experiences and ACCEPTANCE to write something so timeless, raw, relatable and beautiful. In the 50s. In a period where lesbian fiction usually wouldn't be published if the stories had happy endings, even by cult publishing houses. It's more than lesbian pulp fiction to me; it's something I can see myself in. It's the only story I've ever truly seen myself in. And I'm sure a lot of you feel the same. 
> 
> In a world that still shies away from stories of same sex romance, or portrays them in negative or harmful ways, TPOS/Carol is always there to fall back on. And I feel kinda sad saying that but, like, whatever, you know. It is what it is. And I hope y'all out there who can write will remedy that. Write your stories, write your experiences, give us more content to consume and hold to our chests. 
> 
> Anyway. I'm so glad you all chose to keep me company and fuel me on during this. You've given me confidence I didn't know I had. My heart feels warm whenever you take the time out to write something lovely or encouraging, and I smile so much when you use this story as an opportunity to talk to one another. Truly, there's nothing more I love than hearing your own personal stories and experiences. It's something I never expected and yet, somehow, reading these comments has become my favourite part of the week.
> 
> As for the next project... I plan to write some vignettes/one shots that take place during and after this story line. I'd offer you a structured, planned story, but my mind needs a bit of a break from that. I'd much prefer to write without restraints and whenever the inspiration strikes.
> 
> [Also, as a sidenote, I'd like to shout out to R, my new lovely friend, who is (for whatever reason) taking me along with her to see a certain person in a certain play in a certain city very soon. I'm beyond grateful and I apologise for how much of a mess I'll be.]
> 
> OKAY. There we go. Thank you all so, so much for being so wonderful. You are all incredible.
> 
> As always, love and hugs X a million,
> 
> Your friend and useless lesbian pal,  
> Claire

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments, criticisms, thoughts!
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> Find me @lesbin on tumblr.


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